The  Gun-Bearer 


A   WAR   NOVEL 


By  E.  A.  Robinson  and  G.  A.  Wall. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  JAMES  FAGAN. 

UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAI 


THE    IMPROVISATORS; 

OR. 

LIFE    IN     ITALY. 

TRANSLATED     FROM    THE    DANISH    OP 

HANS  CHRISTIAN   ANDERSEN. 

By  MARY  HOWITT. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  HASBI  O  EDWARDS 
I2mo.    Bound  in  Cloth,  $1.00.    Paper  Cover,  50  Cents. 


This  is  an  entrancing  romance  dealing  with  the  classic  scenes 
of  Italy.  To  those  who  desire  to  behold  with  their  own  eyes 
those  scenes,  it  wO  create  a  fresh  spring  of  sentiment,  and  fill 
them  with  unspeakable  longing.  To  those  who  have  visited  the 
fair  and  memory-haunted  towers  and  towns  of  Florence,  Rome 
and  Naples,  it  will  revive  their  enthusiasm  and  refresh  their 
knowledge.  Andersen  published  this  novel  immediately  after 
his  return  from  Italy,  and  it  created  an  extraordinary  effect. 
Those  who  had  depreciated  the  author's  talent  came  forward 
voluntarily  and  offered  him  their  homage.  It  is  a  work  of  such 
singular  originality  and  beauty  that  no  analysis  or  description 
could  do  it  justice,  and  the  universal  admiration  which  it  at  once 
excited  has  caused  it  to  be  read  and  reread  throughout  the  world. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsd  2alers,  or  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  ,o:  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS, 
COR.  WILLIAM  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS,  New  Yo 


THE  GUN-BEARER. 


THE  GUN-BEARER. 


BY 

EDWARD    A.    ROBINSON 

AND 

GEORGE   A.    WALL, 

Authors  of  "The  Disk,"  etc. 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS    BY   JAMES   FAG  AN. 


NEW  YORK: 
ROBERT    BONNER'S    SONS, 

PUBLISHERS. 


TMI    CHOICE    HKIE8  :      IMUtO    SEMI-MONTHLY.        SUMCHIPIION    PHICf,     TWELVE     DOLLAR*    Pt«  *N»UM.       «O.     10T, 
APRIL    15,    lilt.        ENTIMO    AT  TMI   NEW  YORK,    N.    ».,   POST    OPPICI    A*    MCOND  CLAM    MAIL    HATTI*. 


COPYRIGHT,  1894. 
BY  BOBEBT  BONNEB'S  SONS 


I  SEE  the  cloud  of  battle  and  the  flame. 
I  hear  the  cannon  roar,  the  crackling  note 
Of  rifles  and  the  clash  of  angry  steel. 
My  pulses  quicken  and  my  brain  is  wild 
With  frenzied  shouts  and  yells  of  men  in  strife. 
There  father,  son  and  brother  fearless  stand 
For  all  men  hold  most  dear. 

There,  right  and  left,  brave  men  are  stricken  down 
Beneath  the  banner  that  they  love  so  well ! 
And  all  the  while,  pulsating  with  the  shriek 
And  hiss  of  shot  and  shell,  with  cries  and  groans 
Of  wounded,  dying  men,  the  sulph'rous  air 
Speaks  to  each  sense,  as  if  in  thunder  tones: 
The  price  of  peace  is  blood. 


1703618 


THE  GUN-BEARER. 


PART  L— PROLOGUE. 


"W 


CHAPTER  I. 

AR  !  Ledger !  Midnight  edition  !  Fort 
Sumter  fired  on  !"  was  the  cry  which,  at 
two  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  i3th 
of  April,  1 86 1,  aroused  the  slumbering  village  in  which 
I  lived.  It  was  a  cry  which  stimulated  and  thrilled 
every  fiber  of  my  being,  as  I  ran,  splashing  through 
mud,  darkness  and  rain,  toward  the  Waytown  Arms, 
our  village  inn. 

I  had  recognized  the  hoarse,  familiar  voice  shouting 
this  stirring  news  as  belonging  to  old  Joe,  the  paper- 
carrier,  and  though  I  was  but  a  boy,  I  knew  the  storm 
that  had  been  threatening  the  safety  of  the  Union  had 
burst  upon  us. 

Joe  was  standing  on  the  seat  of  a  light  wagon  in  the 
open  roadway  before  the  tavern.  His  vehicle  was 
drawn  by  two  small  mules,  whose  sweating  bodies 
threw  up  clouds  of  steam,  which  the  lantern  in  the 

[7  ] 


8  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

hands  of  the  innkeeper  scarcely  penetrated,  and  in 
which  old  Joe's  form  towered  black  and  gigantic. 

A  surging  crowd  of  hurriedly  dressed  men  had  al- 
ready gathered  around  the  wagon,  and  I  could  see  the 
gleam  of  papers  as  they  were  passed  from  hand  to 
hand. 

Drawing  near,  I  saw  there  was  another  person  in 
the  wagon  who  was  distributing  the  papers — old  Joe, 
maintaining  his  lofty  position  above  the  heads  of  the 
encircling  crowd,  and,  whip  in  hand,  as  if  impatient  to 
be  off,  had  but  the  one  care  on  his  mind,  to  rouse  the 
heaviest  sleeper  in  the  village  with  this  dreaded  news. 

A  moment  before  silence  had  reigned  in  the  unsus- 
pecting security  of  our  village,  and  I,  too  thoughtful 
for  sleep,  by  reason  of  the  excited  talk  which  we  boys, 
imitating  our  elders,  had  been  indulging  in  at  our  sur- 
reptitious meeting  that  evening,  was  standing  by  the 
window  of  my  room  up  under  the  roof,  looking  out 
into  the  darkness  and  listening  abstractedly  to  the  drip, 
drip  of  the  rain  from  the  eaves.  Not  a  light  was  to 
be  seen  anywhere ;  utter  gloom  and,  save  the  noise  of 
the  rain,  silence  everywhere. 

After  a  while  I  fancied  that  the  echo  of  another 
sound  mingled  with  the  patter  of  the  water.  It  was 
like  the  blast  of  a  horn.  I  opened  the  window,  that  I 
might  hear  better,  and,  listening  with  suspended  breath, 
heard  the  sound  again,  this  time  more  plainly. 

Toot !     Toot ! 

It  was  a  horn,  surely,  but  still  far  away. 

Later  I  could  hear  the  muffled  rumble  of  wheels  and 
the  thump  of  hoofs  in  the  covered  bridge  at  the  north 
end  of  the  village  and,  when  that  ceased,  the  rattle  of 
wheels  over  stony  ground  and  the  sound  of  a  hoarse 
voice  shouting  something. 

Others  were  waking  in  the  village ;  lights  gleamed 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  9 

from  many  windows,  and  the  heads  of  many  people 
appeared,  some  with  night-caps  and  some  without. 
Meanwhile  the  noise  of  hoof -beats  and  the  sound  of 
wagon-wheels  grew  louder,  the  shouting  more  distinct, 
and,  when  the  team  turned  the  corner,  came  full  and 
strong  the  cry  of  "  War." 

I  made  a  short  cut  to 'the  ground  by  way  of  my  win- 
dow, the  porch  underneath,  and  a  drop  from  the  edge 
of  that  to  the  soft  lawn  below,  and  in  a  very  short 
space  of  time  was,  as  you  see  me  at  the  beginning  of 
this  story,  splashing  through  the  darkness  and  mud  on 
my  way  to  the  inn,  where  I  had  rightly  concluded  Joe 
would  rein  up. 

By  the  time  I  arrived,  however,  the  demand  for 
papers  had  been  satisfied,  and  old  Joe,  anxious  that  no 
one  should  get  ahead  of  him  in  th"e  village  beyond 
cried  : 

"  Ready,  boys !     G'lang  !" 

Then  letting  the  whip  fall  on  the  steaming  mules, 
and  with  a  final  cry  "War  !"  he  went  rattling  and  splash- 
ing away  into  the  darkness. 

As  Joe  drove  off,  the  crowd  which  he  had  called  to- 
gether began  to  diminish,  some  going  one  way  and 
some  another,  all  anxious  to  know  the  particulars. 

Many  of  the  villagers  went  into  the  tavern,  whither 
I  followed,  but  on  presenting  myself  at  the  door  of  the 
bar-room,  where  they  seemed  to  have  assembled,  ad- 
mittance was  refused  me. 

"  The  room  is  already  too  full,"  they  said. 

On  trying  the  office,  I  found  gathered  there  several 
of  the  boys  whom  I  had  left  only  a  little  while  before. 
They  were  all  in  one  group  at  the  end  of  the  room, 
watching  with  a  mixture  of  diffidence  and  curiosity  a 
strange  man  who  was  reading  one  of  Joe's  papers  by 
the  light  of  the  desk-lamp. 


10  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

Curiosity  at  last  getting  the  best  of  every  other  feel- 
ing, little  Tommy  Atkins  ventured  to  break  the  silence 
and  ask  the  stranger  the  meaning  of  all  the  excitement. 

"  It  means  war,  I  suppose,  boys,"  he  said,  in  a  kindly 
voice,  looking  toward  us ;  then,  probably  surmising 
that  we  were  anxious  to  know  all  about  it,  he  added : 
"  but  would  you  like  to  hear  what  the  paper  says  ?" 

"Yes!"  we  cried,  in  chorus. 

"  Very  well ;  you  sit  down,  and  I'll  read." 

We  scattered  to  seats,  and  the  stranger,  springing  to 
a  place  on  the  desk,  by  which  he  had  been  standing, 
drew  the  lamp  toward  him,  and  holding  the  paper  side- 
wise,  so  that  the  light  would  fall  strong  on  the  print, 
read: 

"  'SPECIAL  DISPATCH  TO  THE  LEDGER. 

"'Charleston,  S.  C.,  April  12,  1861. — The  rebels  opened  fire 
upon  Fort  Sumter  at  4:30  this  morning.  The  first  shot  was 
fired  from  Fort  Moultrie.  The  iron-clad  floating  battery  and 
the  heavy  batteries  on  Mt.  Pleasant  and  Cummings  Point  im- 
mediately followed  suit.  The  encircling  guns  poured  such  a 
storm  of  shot  and  shell  upon  the  loyal  fort  that  only  the  cannon 
in  the  casemates  could  be  used,'  "  etc.,  etc. 

But  everybody  has  read  these  first  dispatches,  and 
been  as  excited  over  them  as  we  were.  Our  youthful 
spirits  under  the  weird  spell  of  the  early  morning 
hour  could  not  be  held  entirely  in  check,  even  by  the 
magnetic  charm  of  the  .stranger's  voice  and  manner  or 
the  strange  news  that  he  was  reading,  and  broke 
through  all  restraint  at  times.  We  were  enthusiastic 
partisans  of  the  northern  cause,  and  understood,  in  a 
youthful  way,  the  nature  of  the  crisis.  Yet  I  am  sure 
none  of  us  really  grasped  the  whole  significance  of  this 
news.  The  novelty  wore  away  somewhat,  I  confess  for 
myself,  as  the  stranger  went  on  reading,  and  my  atten- 
tion wandered  occasionally  to  outside  matters. 

I  heard  a  wagon  rattle  up  to  the  door,  saw  the  post- 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  11 

master  come  into  the  office,  take  his  hat  and  coat  from 
a  peg,  and  go  out  again.  He  was  evidently  thinking 
deeply  about  something,  for  he  took  no  notice  of  the 
stranger,  who  kept  on  reading,  nor  of  us  boys  sitting 
around  in  silence.  In  a  little  while  I  heard  the  wagon 
rumble  away. 

Again,  the  stranger  had  not  long  been  reading  be- 
fore Joe  Bentley,  the  blacksmith's  son,  who  was  sitting 
astride  a  chair,  with  his  elbows  resting  on  the  back, 
began  fumbling  about  in  his  pockets.  Bringing  forth, 
at  last,  a  short  clay  pipe,  from  which  he  carefully 
shook  the  ashes,  he  crowded  down  what  tobacco  there 
was  in  it,  fished  out  a  live  coal  from  among  the  ashes 
in  the  big  fireplace,  and  proceeded  to  light  it  in  an  ab- 
stracted sort  of  way.  Then  placing  the  pipe  in  one 
corner  of  his  mouth,  where  neither  it  nor  the  smoke 
could  interfere  with  his  vision,  he  fixed  his  eyes  un- 
waveringly on  the  stranger. 

Joe  was  the  biggest  and  oldest  one  among  us,  and 
we  always  looked  up  to  him  a  little  on  that  account ; 
but  now  he  seemed  more  than  ever  sedate  and  trust- 
worthy. 

War  and  the  horrors  prophesied  by  the  paper 
might  seem  unreal  and  overdrawn  to  the  rest  of  us, 
but  Joe  must  realize  them,  I  thought,  as  I  watched  him 
sitting  there  so  stately  and  thoughtful  with  the  stump 
of  a  pipe  between  his  teeth. 

Tommy  Atkins  also  seemed  to  realize  something  of 
the  terrible  news.  He,  too,  seemed  absorbed  by  it,  and 
sat  on  the  end  of  the  newspaper-table,  swinging  his 
feet  and  twisting  and  untwisting  his  cap,  from  which 
he  had  long  ago  wrung  out  every  drop  of  moisture,  ut- 
terly unconscious  of  everything  about  him  except  the 
words  of  the  stranger. 

During  this  time  it  was  evident,  from  noises  which 


12  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

came  to  us  from  the  bar-room,  that  the  older  people 
there  assembled  were  not  without  their  excitement. 
First  we  would  hear  an  indistinct  roar,  as  if  all  were 
talking  at  once.  Then  came  a  more  decided  shout, 
with  stamping  of  feet  and  thumping  of  chair-legs. 
After  this  a  short  silence,  and  then  the  indistinct  tones 
of  a  single  voice  murmuring  on,  sometimes  undisturbed, 
sometimes  interrupted  by  applause,  and  in  one  or  two 
cases  completely  overcome  by  noises  of  an  opposite 
character,  not  quick  and  soon  over,  like  applause,  but 
slowly  growing  from  a  mere  murmur  persistently 
louder  and  louder  until  the  one  voice  was  swallowed 
up  and  lost. 

This  effort  to  drown  the  speaker's  voice  occurred  but 
twice.  At  the  end  of  the  second  time  I  heard  a  scuf- 
fling of  feet,  a  crash  as  of  breaking  furniture,  followed 
by  a  loud,  angry  voice,  shouting:  "You  lie!  Take 
that !"  A  pistol-shot  added  to  the  confusion,  and  as  I 
heard  some  one  cry  out :  "  Murder !"  the  stranger 
jumped  to  the  floor  and  darted  through  the  doorway 
leading  to  the  bar-room. 

Curiosity  overcoming  my  judgment,  I  followed  just 
far  enough  to  see  the  cause  of  this  disturbance,  and 
there,  close  by  the  door,  struggling  in  the  grasp  of  two 
of  the  worst  roughs  that  ever  disgraced  the  quiet  of  a 
mill-village,  was  old  white-haired  Deacon  Miller,  his 
face  streaked  with  blood,  his  coat  torn  to  shreds,  his 
hat  off  and  a  crowd  of  dazed  and  seemingly  helpless 
men  watching  this  unnatural  combat,  yet  making  no 
effort  to  offer  the  help  that  was  needed. 

Pressing  through  the  crowd,  the  stranger  jumped 
like  a  tiger  at  the  bully  nearest  him,  and,  with  a  well- 
directed  blow,  knocked  him  senseless.  Before  the  other 
villain  could  appreciate  the  situation,  he,  too,  received 
a  well-merited  punishment,  and  the  deacon,  faint  with 


THE     GUN- BEARER.  13 

exhaustion,  would  have  fallen  to  the  floor  had  not  the 
stranger  caught  him  in  his  arms. 

A  murmur  of  approval  went  up  from  the  crowd,  and 
Billy  Green,  of  the  variety  store,  shouted : 

"  Kick  the  rascals  into  the  road !  Hang  'em  to  the 
sign-post !" 

"Silence  !"  thundered  the  stranger,  in  a  commanding 
tone.  "  Can't  you  act  like  men  ?  Landlord,  get  out 
your  carriage  and  help  me  take  the  deacon  to  his 
house.  And  you,  sir,"  addressing  Billy  Green,  "get  me 
a  basin  of  water  and  a  sponge." 

It  was  soon  discovered  that  the  Deacon  had  received 
only  a  slight  flesh  wound,  and  that,  aside  from  the 
damage  sustained  by  his  clothing  and  the  exhaustion 
resulting  from  rough  handling,  there  was  no  serious 
damage  done. 

After  the  carriage  with  the  deacon,  the  stranger  and 
the  landlord  had  rolled  away,  the  two  miscreants,  who 
by  this  time  had  gained  their  feet,  muttered  threats  of 
dire  vengeance  upon  the  deacon. 

"  You'd  better  let  him  alone,"  said  Joe  Bentley,  who 
was  standing  behind  me.  "  If  he  can't  take  care  of 
himself,  he's  got  a  friend  who  can  take  of  him." 

The  roughs  looked  at  Joe  angrily  an  instant,  then 
turned  and  left  the  tavern. 

"  They  're  a  bad  lot,"  said  Dick  Wentworth,  the  sta- 
tion-agent, as  the  door  closed  after  them — "  a  bad  lot 
and  they  ought  to  be  watched.  They're  mean  enough 
to  do  anything." 

"  Who  are  they,  anyhow  ?"  asked  Billy  Green,  rather 
out  of  contempt  than  for  information. 

"  Jail-birds — a  couple  of  jail-birds  of  the  worst  sort, 
just  two  weeks  out  of  jails,  where  they've  been  board- 
ing for  the  past  three  years  for  setting  fire  to  the  dea- 
con's mill." 


14  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  They  '11  get  another  three  years  if  they  don't  make 
themselves  scarce  'round  these  parts,"  said  Billy. 

"  Like  enough — like  enough,"  answered  Wentworth, 
meditatively ;  "  but  they'll  be  up  to  some  deviltry  before 
they  go.  You  see  if  they  don't." 

An  hour  was  spent  discussing  the  war-news,  during 
which  the  situation  was  viewed  from  every  stand- 
point. 

The  village  orator,  Bert  Smith,  who,  by  the  way,  hap- 
pened to  be  town-crier,  had  a  good  deal  to  say  about 
the  Stars  and  Stripes,  the  scream  of  the  eagle  for 
liberty,  and  rounded  out  his  speech  with  the  solemnity 
of  a  prophet. 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  "  this  beautiful  land  of  ours  deluged 
with  blood ;  our  sons  slaughtered  on  our  own  hearth- 
stones ;  ruin,  wretchedness,  tears,  despair  and  death, 
everywhere." 

Just  as  he  had  finished  the  landlord  returned,  and, 
rushing  into  the  room,  shouted  excitedly  : 

"The  rascals!  What's  become  of  them?  Where 
are  those  brutes  that  struck  the  deacon  ?" 

"  Gone !"  answered  Billy  Green.  4t  They  left  just  after 
you  drove  away." 

"  Boys,"  replied  the  landlord,  "  there 's  going  to  be 
trouble  to-night,  sure ;  and  those  villains  are  going  to 
make  it." 

"  What's  the  matter  now?"  asked  Billy. 

"  Matter  enough.  The  stranger  and  I  took  the  dea- 
con home,  and  were  coming  back  through  the  woods. 
When  we  'd  got  as  far  as  Paddock's,  I  saw  two  men 
sneak  in  behind  the  big  stone  at  the  bound'ry  line  and 
crawl  off  into  the  darkness.  The  stranger  also  saw 
them,  and  said :  '  Landlord,  you  'd  better  turn  and  drive 
me  back  to  Miller's  house.  Those  imps  mean  mischief, 
and  the  old  man  may  need  help.  I'll  stop  with  him 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  15 

to-night  ?'  So  I  drove  back,  left  him,  and  he's  there 
now." 

"What's  that?"  said  Billy,  from  the  west  window. 
"  The  moon  ?" 

"  Moon !"  replied  the  landlord,  going  hastily  to  the 
window.  "  Moon  don't  rise  in  the  west.  My  God, 
boys !  They  're  at  it ;  they  Ve  fired  either  the  mill  or  the 
deacon's  house.  Come  on ;  help  me  out  with  the  big 
wagon ;  and  you,  Billy,  run  for  the  sexton,  get  the  key 
to  the  church,  and  ring  the  bell,  quickly !  Away  with 
with  you  !"  noticing  a  little  hesitation. 

Willing  hands  helped  the  landlord  get  out  the  big 
wagon,  to  which  were  harnessed  a  fresh  pair  of  horses, 
and  into  which  sprang  half  a  dozen  men,  eager  to  ren- 
der whatever  assistance  might  be  needed  to  save  the 
mill,  upon  which  so  many  of  the  townspeople  depended 
for  their  daily  bread. 

Just  as  the  horses  were  put  to  a  gallop  toward  the 
fire,  the  old  church-bell  rang  out  an  alarm,  which 
aroused  every  able-bodied  man  in  the  village. 

While  I  stood  in  the  doorway,  watching  the  teams 
disappear  in  the  rain  and  haze  which  were  reddened 
by  the  light  of  the  distant  fire,  and  was  debating  with 
myself  whether  or  not  I  should  run  after  the  other 
boys,  I  distinctly  heard  the  thump  of  a  crutch  on  the 
floor  behind  me.  There  could  be  no  mistake  about 
this,  and  I  at  once  became  conscious  that  my  father 
was  near  me,  as  he  was  the  only  man  in  the  village 
who  used  a  crutch. 

I  was  proud  that  I  could  show  my  father  that  his 
own  interest  in  affairs  of  state,  as  well  as  of  local  im- 
portance, were  finding  a  ready  second  in  the  person  of 
his  son ;  but  I  was  also  aware  of  a  little  inward  trem- 
bling for  all  that. 

My  father  was  one  of  those  men  who  could  never  be 


16  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

depended  upon  beforehand  to  look  at  anything  in  any 
particular  way.  Of  a  very  nervous  temperament,  and 
made  irascible  by  chronic  ailing  and  loss  of  property, 
his  views,  I  often  thought,  were  colored  by  his  feelings ; 
and  as  I  was  an  only  child,  and  babied,  as  the  boys  say, 
it  occurred  to  me  that  he  might  think  this  a  fitting  op- 
portunity to  reduce  me  to  my  proper  place,  as  a  person 
of  no  importance,  and,  more's  the  pity,  I  was  right,  for 
hardly  had  he  caught  sight  of  me  when  he  cried : 

"You  here?  This  is  no  place  for  a  boy  on  such  a 
night  as  this.  Go  home  !" 

Why  didn't  I  run  before  I  was  discovered  !  To  say  I 
was  vexed  would  be  putting  it  too  mildly.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  I  was  old  enough  to  be  allowed  some  rights, 
and  had  about  determined  to  resist  parental  authority 
when  my  father  took  me  by  the  shoulder,  and  pushing 
me,  said : 

"  March !" 

I  went,  and  felt  then  as  I  have  felt  since,  my  body 
move  forward,  though  my  spirit  rebelled  and  bade  me 
stay. 


"Yin    Ml    iKiwv.   AND   I'LL  UK  A 1 1.  ••-.•»•«•«•  1'aye  IO. 


CHAPTER   II. 

When  I  again  came  out  of  the  house,  although  the 
morning  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens,  I  noticed  that 
the  village  was  unusually  quiet.  Everybody  seemed 
to  be  asleep ;  but,  without  pausing  to  wonder  at  the 
unwonted  stillness  that  reigned  all  around,  I  went  to 
the  barn  and  began  work  on  the  horses,  finishing  with 
my  mare ;  for  I  liked  to  spend  all  extra  time  on  her. 

In  the  next  house  to  ours  lived  Mrs.  Atkins,  Tommy's 
mother.  Mr.  Atkins  had  died  in  debt,  father  said. 
Consequently,  Tommy's  mother  was  compelled  to  de- 
pend upon  her  own  exertions  for  a  living,  and  called 
upon  Tommy  to  add  to  the  family  treasury  all  he  could 
earn  by  driving  the  grocer's  wagon,  and  doing  any  other 
light  jobs  that  came  in  his  way. 

Out  on  all  occasions  and  in  all  kinds  of  weather,  Tom- 
my improved  a  happy  faculty  for  picking  up  little  bits  of 
news,  to  which  his  ingenuity  and  imagination  added 
many  interesting  details,  and  therefore,  though  the 
youngest  boy  among  us,  he  was  generally  the  best  in- 
formed as  to  whatever  was  of  current  interest. 

But  he  was  a  little  too  conscious  of  this  superiority, 
we  sometimes  thought.  We  did  not  like  to  have  to 
listen  to  him  always. 

Tommy's  bedroom  window  was  just  opposite  the 
doorway  of  our  barn,  and  the  noise  I  made  over  the 

[17] 


18  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

horses,  and  the  low  whistle  I  kept  up  to  drive  the  dust 
from  my  mouth  must  have  aroused  him,  as  he  appeared 
suddenly  at  the  stable-door. 

"  Hello,  Tommy,"  I  cried,  on  seeing  him. 

"  Hello  yerself.  I  say,  Dan,  'twas  too  bad  yer  had  to 
go  home.  Yer  missed  all  the  fun." 

"  Did  you  see  it  all  ?" 

"Did  I  see  it?  Wa'n't  I  out  all  night?"  Tom,  in- 
deed, did  look  as  though  he  had  been  out,  as  he  said  : 
"  Gosh  !  wa'n't  it  lively,  though  ?" 

"  Well,  what  was  it  burnt  ?"  I  asked. 

But  Tommy  was  not  going  to  tell  the  whole  secret 
or  any  part  of  it  in  a  hurry,  so  he  passed  over  my  ques- 
tion as  though  he  had  not  heard  it. 

"D'yer  s'pose  I  'd  gone  home,  'nd  left  a  big  red  sky 
like  that  ?  Not  much  !  It  beat  all  the  Fourth -of -July 
fireworks  you  ever  saw,  all  holler." 

I  was  breathless  with  impatience  to  hear  about  it, 
but  saw  Tommy  had  made  up  his  mind  to  tantalize 
me,  and  at  the  same  time  show  me  how  much  more 
independent  he  was  than  I.  It  would  not  do  to  allow 
that ;  besides,  I  knew  that  if  let  alone  he  would  give  me 
the  whole  story  in  time.  I  said  nothing,  therefore,  but 
applied  myself  more  closely  to  my  work.  I  was  rub- 
bing down  the  mare's  hind  legs  at  the  time.  This  gave 
me  a  chance,  as  I  bent  over,  to  watch  Tommy  under 
my  arm,  and  by  saying  "Whoa!"  now  and  then  I 
seemed  to  acquire  independence  and  carelessness,  as 
it  were. 

Tommy  at  first  seemed  disturbed,  because  I  did  not 
show  more  enthusiasm,  and  I  became  almost  afraid 
that  he  was  going  to  disappoint  me,  and  go  away  with- 
out giving  me  the  news ;  but  the  desire  to  air  some  of 
his  knowledge  conquered  all  other  inclinations,  and, 
taking  up  a  position  on  the  mealchest,  he  began : 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  19 

11  Yer  know  the  stranger  who  read  to  us.  Yer  remer- 
ber  him,  don't  yer  ?" 

Of  course  I  remembered  him.  Was  not  his  face,  with 
its  black  hair  and  glittering  black  eyes,  the  clearest 
thing  in  my  mind  of  all  last  night's  excitement  ?  But 
I  simply  said  : 

"Yes." 

"Well,  he's  a  brick."  Tommy  shut  his  teeth, 
winked  his  eyes,  and  shook  his  head  convincingly. 
"  You  know,  of  course,  'bout  his  killing  the  rough  ?" 

I  was  startled  from  my  forced  calm,  and  straighten- 
ing up  stared  over  the  mare's  back  at  Tommy  sitting 
on  the  chest.  Tommy  saw  his  advantage  and  sneered. 

"  Don't  even  know  that,  hey  ?"  I  went  back  to  work 
in  a  hurry.  "Yer  a  pretty  feller  to  be  'round  when 
there  's  anything  goin'  on." 

"  Whoa  !     Stand  still,  can't  you  ?"  said  I  to  the  mare. 

"  Well, "  said  Tommy,  with  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  in 
his  eyes,  "  when  we  left  the  tavern  the  landlord  whipped 
up  his  horses,  and  away  we  went  in  fine  shape,  I  tell 
yer." 

"  But  you  weren't  in  the  wagon,  were  you  ?"  I  asked, 
remembering  distinctly  that  when  the  wagon  started 
Tommy  and  the  other  boys  were  afoot. 

"  No ;  but  they  hadn  't  reached  the  corner  before  I 
was  with  them." 

"  I  suppose  they  needed  you,"  said  I,  determined  to 
get  a  fling  at  Tommy. 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Tommy  indifferently,  as  if 
that  were  a  matter  about  which  there  ought  to  be  but 
one  opinion,  and  that  further  remarks  on  that  subject 
were  unnecessary.  "  But  don't  bother  me,  Dan,  if  you 
want  to  hear  what  happened." 

'•  Go  on,  then !"  I  muttered. 

"  Well,  's  I  was  sayin',  we  went  off  in  fine  shape.   We 


20  .          THE     GUN-BEARER. 

picked  up  some  of  the  mill  overseers  on  the  way,  and 
by  the  time  we  got  clear  of  the  town  we  had  a  dozen 
men  in  the  wagon.  My,  but  it  was  dark  and  drizzly 
when  we  got  into  the  woods  !  Just  after  we  got  through 
them,  and  came  out  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  we  could  see 
the  blaze  over  the  tops  of  the  trees  that  stood  between 
us  and  the  mill.  One  of  the  overseers  said  :  '  It 's  the 
mill,  boys,  sure  enough  !'  " 

"  '  The  rascals !'  said  the  landlord,  sharp  and  angry 
like.  '  Keep  a  sharp  eye  along  the  roadside,  boys,  for 
two  of  the  meanest  skunks  that  ever  went  unhung. 
Don't  let  'em  get  away.  It  '11  be  some  satisfaction  in 
running  those  fellows  in.'  " 

"  '  Better  hang  'em,'  said  Billy,  'and  run  'em  in  after- 
ward.' 

"  A  little  turn  in  the  road  as  you  reach  the  mansur 
house  brought  us  into  a  full  view  of  the  fire,  which 
proved  to  be  " — here  Tommy  began  to  mount  his  high 
horse  again — "  but  what  are  you  looking  at  me  in  that 
way  for,  with  your  mouth  wide  open,  and  your  eyes 
fairly  sticking  out  of  your  head  ?" 

"Stand  still  there,"  I  cried  to  the  mare.  I  had  to  say 
something  to  cover  my  excitement. 

Tommy  waited  an  instant,  just  to  bother  me,  and  then 
said : 

"  Well,  it  was  the—" 

"  Whoa !  Be  quiet !"  I  shouted  to  the  mare,  as 
Tommy  again  paused,  with  a  smile  at  my  eagerness  to 
catch  every  word. 

"  The  barn.  The  mill  was  all  right,  but  the  deacon's 
house  was  in  danger.  The  barn  is  close  to  the  house, 
yer  know,  and  well  filled  with  hay.  It  made  a  mighty 
hot  fire.  We  could  hear  it  roar  as  the  big  waves  of 
flame,  all  edged  with  a  fringe  of  sparks  and  smoke,  rose 
high  into  the  air." 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  21 

I  had  now  stopped  work  and  was  standing,  curry- 
comb and  brush  in  hand,  staring  at  Tommy.  Tommy, 
warming  to  the  subject,  for  the  moment  forgot  his 
superiority,  and,  not  noticing  my  attitude,  continued 
rapidly  : 

"  When  we  turned  into  the  mill  road  we  heard  a 
couple  of  explosions.  Some  of  the  men  said  't  was 
powder  in  the  barn  ;  others  said  't  was  more  like  the 
crack  of  a  rifle.  When  we  reached  the  house  we  saw 
the  stranger,  the  deacon  and  'a  couple  of  his  men 
throwin'  water  on  blankets  hung  on  the  side  of  the 
house  nearest  the  barn.  Edith  and  the  servant  girl 
were  there,  helpin'  carry  water  from  the  well  to  the 
house. 

"  Our  comin'  was  a  lucky  job  for  them,  for  they  were 
all  tuckered  out.  In  a  few  minutes  the  old  hand-engine 
arrived,  the  suction-pipe  was  lowered  into  the  well,  the 
breaks  were  manned,  and  when  the  leadin*  hosemen  got 
a  stream  on  the  fire  they  began  to  get  the  best  of  it. 

"By  George,"  said  Tommy,  as  the  whole  scene 
seemed  to  come  into  his  mind,  "  what  a  sight  that  was 
and  how  we  all  shouted  when  the  flames  died  down  and 
we  knew  the  house  was  saved  ! 

"  After  the  fire  was  all  out  the  deacon  opened  a  barrel 
of  cider  and  everybody  drank  his  fill." 

"  Did  they  get  the  horses  out  ?" 

"  Yes,  got  'em  all  out.  Ah,  I  thought  there  was  some- 
thin'  else.  The  explosions  we  heard " — here  Tommy 
looked  at  me,  as  if  meditating  another  triumph. 

But  I  was  ready  for  him,  and  had  resumed  work  on 
the  mare. 

"  The  explosions  were  caused  by  the  stranger's  firin' 
at  the  two  roughs  who  attacked  the  deacon  at  the 
tavern." 

"  Did  he  hit  them  ?" 


22  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  You  bet  he  did,"  replied  Tommy.  "  He  killed  one 
of  'em  stone  dead,  and  he  hurt  the  other  so  he  couldn't 
get  away,  and  we  brought  him  back  with  us." 

"  What  were  they  trying  to  do  ?" 

"  Set  fire  to  the  house,  of  course.  They  'd  piled  a  lot 
of  straw  against  the  rear  of  the  house,  and  with  a  card 
of  lighted  matches  were  goin'  to  set  fire  to  it  when  the 
stranger,  who  'd  been  watchin'  'em  and  was  all  ready, 
up  and  fired.  The  ball  passed  right  through  the  neck 
of  one  feller  and  broke  his  spine,  so  he  died  at  once. 
The  other  one  was  hit  in  the  leg  and  fell,  so  they  cap- 
tured him.  He  's  an  ugly  feller,  that  rough  ;  but  they  '11 
fix  him  now." 

Just  here  Mrs.  Atkins  called  :  "  Tommy  !"  Tommy 
heard  her  and  said  : 

"But  perhaps  you  haven't  been  interested  in  what 
I  've  been  tellin'.  Look  at  yourself." 

I  did  not  look  at  myself,  and  I  did  not  want  Tommy 
to  go  away  without  telling  me  the  rest,  for  I  was  inter- 
ested to  know  if  there  was  anything  more,  so  I  said  : 

"  Anything  else  happen  ?" 

"  Can't  stop  any  longer.  There  's  mother  callin'  and 
I  'm  late  to  work  as  't  is." 

Tommy  sprang  down  from  the  chest  and  started 
home  on  the  run  ;  but  as  he  was  passing  out  of  the  door 
an  idea  seized  him  and,  catching  hold  of  the  door-post 
with  one  hand,  he  swung  the  upper  part  of  his  body  into 
the  barn. 

"  Say  !  Come  round  to  the  store  this  afternoon,  and 
if  I  'm  there  I  '11  tell  you  the  rest." 

He  winked  one  eye  at  me  and  grinned.  I  let  the 
currycomb  fly  at  him,  but  he  dodged  it  easily,  disap- 
peared, and  in  a  moment  I  heard  his  feet  strike  the 
ground  on  his  side  of  the  fence. 


CHAPTER   III. 

"  Daniel,  come  to  breakfast !" 

It  was  my  mother  calling  from  the  kitchen  door. 

As  I  entered  the  house,  mother,  who  was  taking  break- 
fast from  the  stove,  turned  to  say  : 

"  Don't  make  any  noise,  Daniel.  Father  didn't  sleep 
much  last  night,  and  he  's  abed  now." 

"  Is  he  sick  ?"  I  asked,  knowing  the  contrary,  but  hop- 
ing she  would  tell  me  what  I  had  failed  to  learn  from 
Tommy. 

"  No ;  but  news  was  brought  last  night  that  Fort 
Sumter  had  been  fired  upon.  Deacon  Miller's  barn  was 
also  burned.  There  were  great  doings  in  the  village 
last  night." 

"  I  know  that,"  I  said,  taking  a  seat  at  the  table  ; 
"  but  what  about  the  stranger  and  the  man  he  killed  ?" 

Mother  was  just  stooping  over  the  stove  with  a  towel 
in  her  hand  to  open  the  oven  door  for  the  potatoes,  but 
hearing  my  question,  she  straightened  up  and  looked  at 
me  with  astonishment. 

"  Why,  Daniel,  this  all  happened  in  the  night." 

She  did  not  know  that  I  had  been  out  at  all — a  bit  of 
evidence  that  father  must  have  been  thinking  of  some- 
thing else  when  he  came  in  or  he  would  have  told  her. 

"  Who  told  you  about  it  ?" 

[23] 


24  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"Tommy  Atkins,"  I  replied.  "He  came  over  this 
morning  when  I  was  cleaning  the  horses,  and  told  me 
all  about  it ;  besides,  I  was  in  the  village  part  of  the 
time,  myself." 

"  You  were  ?  I  did  not  hear  you  come  in,"  she  said, 
and  bent  over  the  stove  again.  Breakfast  was  soon 
upon  the  table,  and  by  the  time  we  began  to  eat,  a  door 
opened  and  father  appeared. 

I  expected  to  be  scolded,  and  watched  him  from  the 
corners  of  my  eyes.  He  looked  tired  and  cross,  and 
the  moment  he  noticed  me  he  was  evidently  reminded 
of  where  he  had  found  me  last  night.  "Look  here, 
young  man,"  he  said,  harshly,  "  it  is  time  for  you  to  be 
in  bed  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"  But,  father  "—I  objected. 

"  No  '  but '  about  it,  sir.  I  don't,  and  what's  more,  I 
won't  have  any  more  of  these  goings-on." 

"  He  did  not  think  you  wouldn't  like  it,"  interposed 
mother. 

"  Didn't  think — he  'd  no  business  to  think.  Why,  I 
found  him  at  the  tavern  wet  through,  just  as  the  tavern 
keeper  with  his  big  wagon  and  half  a  dozen  men  were 
starting  for  the  fire.  A  minute  more  and  he  'd  been  off 
with  them,  as  big  as  you  please.  Look  here,  young 
man  " — father  always  began  with  this  phrase  when  he 
wanted  to  reprove  me — "  you  Ve  got  to  grow  before 
you  11  be  of  much  account." 

"  Dan'l  wanted  to  see  what  was  going  on,  I  suppose. 
You  must  remember,  father,  we  were  all  children 
once." 

"  That  is  all  very  true,  but  no  excuse,"  and  while  he 
was  saying  this,  he  leaned  his  crutch  against  the  wall 
and  slowly  lowered  himself  into  his  chair  at  the  table. 
Hardly  had  he  turned  around  and  faced  us,  before  the 
crutch  fell  with  a  crash  to  the  floor. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  25 

He  jumped  in  his  chair  as  though  a  pistol  had  been 
fired,  and  turning,  looked  at  the  fallen  crutch  as  if  it 
had  been  a  dog  ready  to  bite  him.  This  seemed  so 
funny  that  I  would  have  laughed,  vexed  as  I  was,  if  a 
scared,  troubled  look  on  mother's  face  had  not  stopped 
me  ;  the  look  made  me  realize  that  father's  nerves  were 
all  unstrung  with  disease  and  trouble  and  sleeplessness, 
and  that  he  was  not  himself. 

But  the  unfavorable  view  he  had  taken  of  my  pres- 
ence in  the  tavern  the  night  before  and  the  way  he  had 
talked  to  me  about  it  had  driven  all  desire  for  news 
out  of  my  mind,  and  turning  my  attention  to  the  break- 
fast, I  discovered  I  was  quite  hungry. 

Not  so  with  my  father  ;  nothing  seemed  to  please  him. 
The  beef  was  too  tough,  the  coffee  too  hot,  or  the 
potatoes  too  soggy.  "  Why  can't  we  have  as  good  beef 
here  as  in  the  city  ?"  was  a  standing  question  with 
him. 

He  was  never  satisfied  with  the  meat  to  be  had,  and 
every  time  he  returned  from  his  periodical  trip  to  the 
city  he  had  a  great  deal  to  say  about  it.  Mother  always 
bore  all  this  complaining  patiently.  It  must  have  hurt 
her  feelings,  yet  she  did  not  seem  to  mind  it  much,  or 
else  I  did  not  see  it.  Her  face  in  these  years  had 
always  a  careworn  expression,  and  her  eyes  the  same 
watchful  look  that  was  in  them  when  I  was  recovering 
from  the  scarlet  fever. 

Father  finally  pushed  away  his  plate,  remarking,  as 
he  did  so  :  "  Oh,  I  don't  want  anything.  I  'm  not 
hungry."  Yet  he  had  eaten  half  of  what  he  had  helped 
himself  to. 

"  I  hope  Deacon  Miller  feels  well  this  morning ,"  he 
said,  after  a  pause. 

"  Why,  he  was  not  hurt  much  last  night,  was  he  ?" 
asked  mother,  a  little  anxiously. 


26  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

I  began  to  be  interested  again,  but  knew  enough  to 
keep  quiet  and  let  them  talk,  undisturbed. 

"  Hurt,  no ;  but  he 's  lost  a  pretty  figure  by  the  fire  ; 
and  to  a  man  who  loves  money  as  he  does,  it 's  enough 
to  make  him  sick.  It's  lucky  for  him  the  stranger 
happened  around  as  he  did  ;  he'd  have  lost  his  house, 
and  the  mill,  too,  for  aught  I  know.  Well,  he's  got 
money  enough — he  can  stand  it." 

"  Yes,  father ;  but  think  of  the  people  depending 
upon  that  mill  for  their  bread  and  butter." 

"  Of  course,  I  'd  be  sorry  for  the  mill  people,"  said 
father ;  "  but  I  haven't  any  sympathy  for  the  deacon. 
He  has  none  for  me.  He  '11  foreclose  on  this  property 
the  first  chance  he  gets,  and  there  's  no  need  of  his 
being  so  grasping.  His  clerk  told  us  yesterday  that 
he  'd  more  orders  on  hand  than  he  could  fill  for  a 
month." 

Father  waited  for  mother  to  speak,  but  she  only 
looked  worried,  and  said : 

"  I  am  sorry  for  Mrs.  Miller." 

"Sorry  for  Mrs.  Miller?  Yes;  I  suppose  you  are. 
That 's  just  like  a  woman.  Do  you  suppose  she  'd  be 
sorry  for  you  if  the  deacon  foreclosed  to-day  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  mother,  bravely. 

"  Oh,  you  do  ?  Well,  I  don't.  There  's  no  difference 
in  them.  They  're  all  in  the  same  boat — deacon,  wife, 
Edith  and  all — grasping,  grasping,  getting  all  they  can 
out  of  everybody." 

"  You  ought  not  to  be  so  hard  on  the  deacon,"  said 
mother.  "  He  loaned  you  money  when  you  needed  it, 
and  it 's  not  his  fault  that  you  have  been  sick  and  that 
things  have  gone  wrong  with  you.  Don't  fret,  father  ; 
things  will  come  out  all  right  when  you  get  well.  What 
started  the  row  at  the  tavern  ?" 

"  Why,  the  deacon  was  talking  about  the  war — what 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  27 

secession  meant,  how  the  price  of  everything  would  go 
up,  and  how  long  it  would  be  before  manufacturers 
could  pay  any  more  for  help  than  they  were  paying 
now.  That  was  about  all  he  had  to  say  when  one  of 
the  roughs  jumped  up  and,  running  to  the  deacon, 
shaking  his  fist  in  his  face,  said  : 

" '  I  know  you,  Deacon  Miller  !  Yer  a  slick,  palaverin', 
lazy  aristercrat,  too  lazy  to  do  anything  yerself,  an'  too 
mean  an'  stingy  to  want  an  honest  laborin'  man  paid 
full  wages  for  an  honest  day's  work.  Yer  always  rob- 
bin'  somebody  an'  tellin'  'em  yer  a  frien',  an'  I  tell  yer 
yer  lie  !' 

"  Just  then  he  pulled  a  pistol  from  his  pocket  and 
pointed  it  at  the  deacon.  Wentworth,  who  was  stand- 
ing close  by  at  the  time,  knocked  the  pistol  up  just  as 
the  fellow  fired.  Another  rough — companion  to  the 
fellow  who  fired  the  pistol — jumped  for  Wentworth, 
and  in  a  minute  there  was  some  pretty  tall  fighting. 
It  didn't  last  long,  for  no  sooner  had  some  one 
shouted:  'Murder!'  than  the  stranger  rushed  in  like 
a  mad  bull  and  put  an  end  to  it  all.  The  tavern-keeper 
told  me  after  he  came  back  from  the  fire  this  morning 
that  the  stranger  killed  one  of  these  two  men  just  as 
they  were  firing  the  deacon's  house,  and  that  he  shot 
the  other,  wounding  him  so  he  was  captured,  and  he  's 
now  in  the  calaboose.  But  that  don't  matter  much. 
Those  fellows  deserved  putting  out  of  the  way,  both  of 
them.  The  thing  we  now  have  to  face  is  war — a  war 
that  has  come  to  stay  until  the  cause  has  been  washed 
out  by  blood.  Civil  war,"  said  my  father,  dropping  his 
voice  to  a  meditative  tone.  "  Civil  war  ;  grim-visaged, 
fratricidal,  terrible.  But,"  turning  suddenly  to  me, 
"  aren't  you  going  to  do  any  work  this  morning  ?" 

"The  chores  are  done,  the  horses  cleaned  and  the 
stable  put  to  rights,"  said  mother,  interfering. 


28  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  It 's  a  wonder,"  said  father,  disappointedly. 

"You  are  not  going  to  the  mill  to- day,  are  you, 
father  ?"  asked  mother.  "  I  wouldn't." 

"  I  don't  believe  I  will.  But  that  grain  must  go  up 
the  river  to-day.  That  must  be  done.  Here,  Daniel, 
you  take  the  double  team  and  carry  it  yourself.  Be 
sure  that  Granger  gives  you  a  receipt  for  the  right 
weight.  There's  more  than  I  usually  carry  in.  Tell 
him  there  '11  be  less  next  week." 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  and  left  the  room  ;  but  he  could 
not  let  me  go  without  a  parting  shot,  and  shouted 
after  me : 

"  Look  here,  young  man,  I  don't  want  any  mistake 
about  this.  It  must  go  to-day." 

I  hurried  off.  I  could  see  before  me  a  pleasant  drive, 
and  a  chance  to  hear  what  the  people  thought  of  the 

war.  v 

******* 

It  had  come.  That  crisis  which  the  wise  had  fore- 
told, and  which  the  thoughtful,  earnest  few  looked  for- 
ward to  as  a  means  to  the  end  they  desired ;  that  reality 
which  the  great  body  of  conservative,  well-fed,  unsus- 
pecting populace  had  pooh-poohed  at,  and  refused  to 
believed  in,  had  come  at  last.  War,  with  all  its  hor- 
rors, was  at  the  door. 

The  little  fleecy  cloud  that  had  crept  up  above  the 
nation's  horizon,  unperceived  by  any  one  but  the  most 
weather-wise,  had  suddenly  taken  on  enormous  pro- 
portions, and  become  terribly  visible  to  all.  Broad, 
black  and  ominous,  it  covered  the  whole  heavens,  preg- 
nant with  rain  and  hail,  hiding,  in  its  shadow,  de- 
structive winds. 

I,  as  a  boy,  lying  at  ease  upon  a  wagon-load  of  grain, 
as  my  two  horses  plodded  slowly  along  the  river  bank 
that  pleasant  spring  morning,  felt  something  of  the 


THE     GUN-BEARER. 


29 


excitement  in  my  blood,  looked  at  the  approaching 
tempest  with  steady,  curious  eyes,  and  waited  some- 
what impatiently,  not  knowing  the  frightful  power  be- 
hind it,  for  the  first  tangible  signs  that  it  was  a  re- 
ality; a  fearful  fact  and  no  empty  though  exciting 
dream. 


PART  IL 

CHAPTER   I. 

Three  years  have  passed  since  first  the  country 
responded  to  the  call  to  arms ;  three  years  since  first 
was  raised  the  cry  of  "  On  to  Richmond  ;"  since  the 
setting  in  of  that  tide  of  war,  which  has  ebbed  and 
flowed  along  the  coast  and  rivers  of  the  South  and 
among  her  mountains,  on  the  plains  and  valleys  of  the 
Mississippi,  of  Tennessee  and  of  Virginia ;  which  has 
broken  over  Maryland  into  Pennsylvania  and  rolled 
along  northward  until  it  threatened  to  submerge 
Washington  and  Baltimore  ;  three  years  of  fatiguing 
toilsome  march  ;  of  camp,  of  bivouac  and  of  battle. 
Hundred  of  thousands  of  brave  men  have  bared  their 
breasts  as  a  bulwark  for  the  cause  they  loved.  Tens  of 
thousands  have  been  swept  resistlessly  onward  to  die 
upon  the  field  of  battle,  to  languish  in  some  gloomy, 
far-off  hospital  or  pestilential  prison  pen.  Again  and 
again  have  the  voice  and  bloody  arms  of  war  been 
raised  for  men,  more  men. 

The  lines  are  more  contracted,  but  the  battle  cloud 
that  has  hung  so  long  in  the  southern  horizon  has  not 
yet  lifted  ;  the  smoke  and  gleam  from  a  country 
ravaged  and  burning  has  not  yet  faded  away ;  there  is 
no  near  prospect  of  peace  from  the  shock  of  battle. 
[30] 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  31 

The  North  is  determined,  strong ;  the  South  is  de- 
fiant, desperate. 

Three  years  next  month  old  Joe  roused  Waytown 
with  the  cry  of  "War."  Since  then  how  changed  the 
village  grew.  So  changed  and  strange  I  did  not  care 
to  stay  there. 

Seventy-five  thousand  men  were  called  for,  and  my 
comrades,  all  who  could,  enlisted.  Almost  everybody 
said  :  "  Pshaw  !  the  war  will  soon  be  over  ;"  but  when  we 
received  the  report  of  the  attack  upon  the  Sixth  Massa- 
chusetts regiment  in  Baltimore,  and  soon  afterward 
news  of  the  fight  at  Bull  Run,  our  people  began  to 
realize  that  war  was  really  at  the  door,  and  that,  per- 
haps, it  would  be  long  and  bloody. 

In  a  few  days  a  pine  box,  large  enough  to  hold  a  man, 
came  in  on  the  train. 

The  whole  village  knew  it  almost  instantly. 

"  Who  is  it  ?"  somebody  whispers. 

"  Mike  Clancy,  one  of  the  volunteers  from  Miller's 
factory." 

Then  a  half  dozen  Irishmen  called  for  the  pine  box 
and  carried  it  away  to  the  north  end  of  the  town. 

The  next  day  a  funeral,  with  many  over-crowded 
wagons  and  raw-boned,  knock-kneed  horses  crawled 
slowly  down  Main  street  out  of  the  village  to  the 
Catholic  graveyard  on  the  hill. 

No  one  thought  of  the  shabby,  strung-out  pomp.  It 
was  a  soldier's  funeral,  the  first  offering  of  our  village 
on  the  country's  altar. 

A  cheap  cotton,  star-spangled  banner  gleamed  through 
the  glass  sides  of  the  hearse. 

Children,  barefooted  and  bareheaded,  stood  by  the 
gateways  or  climbed  the  road-side  fence  to  watch  with 
wide-open,  calm  but  wondering  eyes  the  sad  procession. 
The  busy  housewife  forgot  for  a  moment  her  morning 


32  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

cares  and  from  her  windows  watched  it  crawling  by. 
She  saw  it  climb  the  hill,  pass  through  the  graveyard 
gate,  and  turned  away  with  apron  to  her  eyes.  Farmers 
suspended  work,  and  with  rake  or  hoe  in  hand  watched 
it  in  silence  out  of  sight. 

Months  passed,  and  the  people  grew  silent,  anxious 
and  impatient.  Newspapers  were  eagerly  scanned  and 
passed  from  hand  to  hand. 

The  Ball's  Bluff  battle  was  reported. 

Many  faces  in  Waytown  turned  pale,  for  "  our  boys  " 
were  there.  And  in  the  next  few  days,  "  He  is  dead," 
"  He  is  wounded,"  "  He,  too,  is  dead,"  were  the  sad 
whispers  which  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth.  Billy 
Green  and  Baker,  the  sadler,  were  shot  there,  and  Joe 
Bentley,  the  big-hearted,  big-bodied  blacksmith's  son, 
was  wounded. 

These  dead  were  not  sent  home,  and  all  that  the 
fathers  and  mothers  could  say  to  inquiring  friends  was 
that  their  comrades  have  written  us  how  Billy  stood 
to  the  first  shock  like  a  man  ;  how,  almost  immediately 
after  it,  he  was  seen  to  drop,  never  to  rise  again  ;  how, 
near  the  end  of  the  fight,  Baker  was  seen  standing  with 
the  rest,  waiting  for  the  charge,  with  blood  running 
from  his  cheek  and  from  his  shoulder,  two  places  where 
bullets  had  hit  him  ;  and  how,  after  the  charge,  when 
the  rebels  had  fled  and  the  smoke  had  lifted  a  little,  he 
was  found,  dead.  This  was  all  they  knew,  all  we  could 
learn  of  the  men  of  our  village  sent  out  to  the  war.  Two, 
at  least,  Baker  and  little  Billy,  would  never  return. 

Thus  the  war  became  a  more  personal  matter  while 
such  news  was  going  the  rounds — a  struggle  not  to  be 
fought  out  by  strangers  and  to  end  soon  in  hurrahs  and 
holidays,  but  a  reckless,  hand-to-hand  conflict,  which 
threatened  to  draw  every  one,  man,  woman  and  child, 
in  some  way  into  the  vortex  of  strife. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  33 

From  the  faces  of  the  men  around  me  I  saw  hope 
fading,  to  give  place  to  a  settled,  anxious  but  determined 
look,  while  the  cheeks  of  anxious  women,  of  widows 
and  of  fatherless  children,  were  pale  and  tear-stained. 

After  months  more  of  waiting  Joe  Bentley  came 
limping  home,  pale  and  weak,  having  been  for  a  long 
time  in  the  hospital,  recovering  from  an  amputa- 
tion. 

Old  man  Bentley  had  mounted  his  big  horse  long  ago 
and  ridden  off  to  the  South,  and  now,  at  long  intervals, 
his  daughter — for  he  had  no  wife — would  get  letters 
from  him,  saying  that  he  was  making  a  dash  into  the 
enemy's  country  or  quietly  shoeing  horses. 

With  Joe  and  his  father  both  away,  the  blacksmith's 
shop  had  been  left  to  itself.  Across  the  dingy  win- 
dows spiders  had  spun  their  dusty  webs  undisturbed ; 
the  big  loose-jointed  double  doors,  which  Mr.  Bentley 
had  swung  groaning  to,  on  the  day  he  rode  away,  were 
now  as  he  had  left  them,  closed  and  barred,  and  through 
the  many  cracks  and  crevices  in  them  you  could  see,  in 
the  dim  twilight  which  reigned  there,  no  matter  how 
bright  the  sunlight  might  be  outside,  the  forge,  grim, 
dirty  and  cold ;  the  big  bellows,  collapsed  and  gray 
with  dust ;  the  noisy  hammer,  now  lying  silent,  across 
the  anvil  where  the  blacksmith  had  left  it. 

Nor  was  the  appearance  of  the  adjoining  house, 
where  the  daughter  and  her  aunt  lived  awaiting  the 
return  of  father  and  brother,  scarcely  less  gloomy,  with 
its  green  blinds  carefully  closed,  and  the  sparkling 
whiteness  of  its  walls  staring  out  cold  and  lifeless 
from  the  shadow  of  the  waving  trees  above. 

When  Joe  appeared  in  Waytown  he  seemed  to  have 
grown  suddenly  much  older,  and  his  face,  though  tired 
and  worn,  looked  nobler  and  wiser.  The  village  folk 
would  never  have  grown  tired  of  asking  him  questions 


34  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

if  he  had  cared  to  answer,  but  he  had  no  stories  to  tell 
them. 

I  remember  that  Parson  Slim  once  asked  him  what 
he  thought  of  the  war. 

"  Parson,"  said  Joe,  harshly,  with  no  reverence  in  his 
voice,  and  pointing  to  his  stump  of  a  leg,  "  it  is  a  hard 
fact,"  and  he  turned  and  limped  away. 

Joe  soon  got  strong  again,  and  the  forge  was  no 
longer  deserted.  The  big  double  doors  were  thrown 
wide  open,  letting  in  the  daylight ;  the  bellows  groaned 
and  wheezed  ;  a  bed  of  live  coals  sparkled  and  glowed 
in  the  center  of  the  forge  so  lately  cold  and  grim  ; 
sparks  flew  out  from  the  red-hot  iron,  and  once  more 
the  sharp  ring  of  the  anvil,  under  the  heavy  blows  of 
Joe's  hammer,  sounded  along  the  quiet  street. 

Tommy  Atkins  and  I  were  the  only  boys  of  our 
crowd  left.  Perhaps  Joe  felt  more  friendly  to  us  be- 
cause we  had  been  so  much  together  before  the  begin- 
ning of  the  war.  At  any  rate,  however  silent  he  was 
with  others  regarding  the  scenes  he  had  taken  part  in, 
he  seemed  quite  willing  to  tell  us  about  them  when 
there  were  no  others  about. 

Often  in  the  long  dark  winter  twilight,  when  his 
work  was  done  we  three  met  by  the  side  of  the  forge, 
and  he  told  us  of  war  and  its  horrors.  As  the  twilight 
deepened  and  the  night  closed  in,  war  seemed  to  over- 
shadow us  also ;  and  while  Joe  went  on,  I  could  hear 
the  drums  and  the  trumpets.  I  saw  woods  sparkling 
with  the  flash  of  rifles,  and  with  clouds  of  smoke  drift- 
ing off  through  the  trees.  I  saw  the  grassy  plain 
strewn  with  the  dead  and  wounded  and  the  earth  red 
with  blood. 

Did  I  fear  war  ?  Was  I  afraid  to  go  ?  I  think  not ; 
but  I  did  see  more  clearly,  and  began  to  realize  the  hard 
fact  that  the  highway  to  a  soldier's  glory  leads  through 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  H5 

the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.  Thus  the  first  flush 
of  enthusiasm  left  me,  and  I  began  to  look  on  war  as  a 
business,  for  I  was  still  resolved  to  go,  if,  when  I  grew 
old  enough  to  enlist,  the  fight  was  still  on,  resolved  that 
no  one  should  point  a  finger  at  me,  when  the  struggle 
was  over,  and  ask,  '•  And  where  were  you  all  this 
time — you  who  had  the  opportunity  ?  Why  didn't  you 
go?" 

But  my  father  would  not  hear  of  my  •  going.  War 
was  banished  from  all  conversation  at  home,  and  I  was 
forced  to  wait  in  silence,  with  the  echoes  of  battle  shouts 
and  of  rattling  drums  ringing  in  my  ears. 

But  the  excitement  of  those  times,  so  powerful  over 
every  one,  combined  with  Deacon  Miller's  foreclosing  the 
mortgage  he  held  on  our  property,  affected  my  father's 
health  very  sadly.  He  became  quite  ill  and  took  to  his 
bed.  We  could  see  that  he  was  failing  day  by  day ; 
doctors  and  nursing  were  of  no  avail,  and  we,  mother 
and  I,  were  forced  to  watch  his  decline,  helpless,  until, 
at  the  end  of  March,  about  a  year  after  the  firing  on 
Fort  Sumter,  he  passed  away. 

A  sad  time  that  was  for  u~.  the  spring  of  1862.  Many 
and  heavy  were  the  cares  that  were  thrust  upon  my 
young  shoulders,  under  the  ever  increasing  burden  of 
which  I  must  struggle  on  for  the  rest  of  my  days,  but 
in  those  stirring  times  no  one  could  remain  long  a  boy. 

By  the  end  of  September,  1863,  our  affairs  in  Way- 
town  having  been  settled,  and  with  barely  enough  to 
meet  the  expense,  we  were  ready  to  leave  for  Kentucky, 
where  mother  intended  to  live  with  her  sister.  The 
war  was  still  going  on,  and  I  was  old  enough  to  enlist. 
How  eagerly  I  longed  for  the  departure  ! 


CHAPTER   II. 

We  arrived  at  my  uncle's  place  in  Kentucky  after  a 
tedious  trip  in  the  cars.  Delay,  delay  at  every  turn, 
especially  when  we  came  near  our  destination,  explain- 
able only  from  the  tumultuous  nature  of  the  times  and 
the  moving  across  our  way  of  troops  and  provision 
trains. 

We  were  getting  into  the  domain  of  war,  and  as  its 
spirit  took  possession  of  me  the  sorrows  of  my  private 
life  faded  away. 

Mr.  Nichols — my  uncle's — family  consisted  of  himself 
and  wife,  both  much  older  than  my  mother,  and  an 
adopted  daughter,  Mary.  There  were  two  sons,  Charlie 
and  Fred,  each  of  whom  had  shouldered  his  musket  and 
departed  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  and  neither  had, 
as  yet,  returned.  From  the  last  of  Fred's  letters,  which 
came  at  rare  intervals,  they  judged  that  he  was,  about 
the  time  mother  and  I  arrived  at  his  home,  somewhere 
in  Eastern  Kentucky  or  Tennessee.  Of  Charlie,  the 
elder,  they  had  heard  almost  nothing  since  the  first  year 
of  the  war.  He  disappeared  in  a  battle,  and  all  search 
for  him  having  been  given  up  for  a  long  time,  they 
came  to  think  him  as  dead.  Judge  of  their  surprise, 
however,  when  a  half-demented  tramp,  wandering  aim- 
lessly through  the  village,  brought  word  that  Charlie 
[36]  * 


,  THE     GUN-BEARER.  37 

was  a  prisoner.  As  may  be  imagined,  much  of  the 
time  after  my  arrival  was  spent  in  trying  to  devise 
some  means  of  determining  Charlie's  whereabouts,  so 
that  they  might  get  word  to  him  in  case  he  was  suffer- 
ing, and  do  all  they  could  to  relieve  him.  This  did  not 
prove  to  be  an  easy  matter,  and  they  finally  concluded 
to  wait  until  Fred  came  home,  as  his  three  years  of  ser- 
vice had  about  expired.  We  were,  therefore,  looking 
impatiently  forward  to  his  return,  as  he  would  be  likely 
to  know,  better  than  any  one,  how  to  go  to  work  to  find 
his  brother.  In  the  meantime,  I  was  making  prepara- 
tions in  secret  for  entering  the  service,  and  cogitating 
the  best  way  to  do  so. 

But  while  waiting  for  the  time  to  come  when  I  should 
be  ready  to  depart,  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  this 
going  away  would  not  be  the  easy  matter  I  had  once 
thought  it. 

How  could  I  say  good-by  to  the  good,  kind  mother 
with  the  tears  in  her  eyes  that  I  knew  would  come,  and 
how  could  I  bring  myself  to  turn  my  back  on  this  pleas- 
ant, hospitable  home  ?  How  would  I  feel  when,  taking 
Mary  by  the  hand  and  looking  into  her  eyes,  I  should 
try  to  say  good-by,  knowing  that  it  might  be  good-by 
forever  ?  The  more  I  thought  of  it  the  more  difficult 
did  it  appear,  until  I  became  at  last  disgusted  with  my- 
self. I  was  thinking  too  much  of  Mary's  handsome  face 
and  her  sweet  voice. 

In  the  early  morning,  when  the  sun  was  bright  and 
everything  was  glaring  and  unrornantic,  I  suffered 
from  the  consciousness  of  having  been  a  fool  the  day 
before,  and  determined  to  be  one  no  longer.  I  decided 
that  I  would  attend  to  business  for  that  day  at  least. 

After  breakfast  I  strolled  down  the  street  and  watched 
the  long  trains  bearing  soldiers  and  supplies  to  the  front. 
At  noon  I  returned  for  luncheon,  and  after  it  strolled 


38  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

tip  to  Fred's  room  with  my  pipe,  for  I  was  a  smoker 
now.  Mary  would,  of  course,  appear  there  ;  but  how 
could  I  help  it,  I  asked  myself.  I  was  not  obliged  to 
shun  her  ;  besides,  her  presence  was  very  agreeable  to 
me.  She  generally  brought  some  of  Fred's  letters, 
and  the  two  or  three  that  Charlie  had  sent  home,  and 
we  read  them  there  together,  she  explaining  what  the 
letters  left  unsaid,  and  telling  me  about  the  country, 
for  she  had  been  through  and  was  familiar  with  that 
section  ;  and  so,  however  strong  my  determination  had 
been  in  the  morning,  by  dinner  time,  which  came  on 
the  edge  of  evening,  I  was  as  much  under  her  control 
as  ever,  and  when  we  went  for  a  walk  afterward 
my  hopes  and  plans  were  almost  forgotten,  and  I  re- 
membered only  at  long  intervals  that  over  there  beyond 
the  moonlit  hills  were  fire  and  smoke  and  blood  and  duty. 

I  went  to  bed  to  dream  of  her,  and  awoke  next  morn- 
ing to  the  same  round  of  savage  resolution,  battle  and 
defeat. 

At  length  Fred  arrived,  travel-stained,  sun-tanned 
and  hungry.  But  what  stories  he  had  to  tell — stories 
to  make  us  laugh,  stories  to  make  us  weep  and  stories 
that  made  the  blood  tingle  in  my  veins  !  I  could  see 
how  proud  the  father  was  of  his  son,  and  the  mother 
too,  despite  her  tears ;  and  Mary — what  would  I  not 
have  given  to  bring  for  myself  such  a  look  of  interest 
into  her  dear  face. 

One  morning,  soon  after  Fred's  arrival,  I  found  him 
in  the  barn,  enjoying  a  quiet  smoke. 

"Well,  Fred,  what  are  you  going  to  do?"  I  asked, 
striking  a  match  on  a  post  to  light  my  pipe. 

"  I  'm  going  back  ;  I  don't  feel  at  home  here,  and  so 
much  going  on  down  yonder." 

"  Why,  I  thought  your  time  was  up  ?  Are  you  going 
to  re-enlist  ?" 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  39 

"  I  have  already  re-enlisted,"  he  replied.  "  You  see, 
most  of  our  fellows  were  awfully  tired  of  tramping. 
We  had  been  at  it  three  years  pretty  steady,  so  when 
they  asked  us  to  veteranize,  we  said  we  would,  if  they 
would  agree  to  give  us  horses,  make  us  cavalry,  or 
mounted  infantry." 

"Are  they  going  to  ?"  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  They  promised  to,  so  we 
veteranized  ;  that  is,  re-enlisted." 

"  Then  it  is  all  settled.     You  are  going  back  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  .Fred.  "  This  is  only  a  furlough  of  thirty 
days.  They 'don't  know  it  in  there,"  motioning  toward 
the  house,  "  and  how  I  am  going  to  tell  them  without 
having  a  scene  I  hardly  know.  'T  was  a  terrible  scene 
indeed  when  Charlie  and  I  went  off.  I  don't  want  to  go 
through  it  again." 

"  Well,  what  am  I  going  to  do  ?  I  'm  going  into  this 
thing." 

Fred  looked  at  me,  his  mouth  opening  in  surprise. 

"Why — what — you  are  too  young  !" 

"  That 's  all  right.  I  'm  not  too  young.  I  'm  big 
enough,  and  it 's  no  use  to  say  no.  My  mind  is  made  up." 

"  Now,  don't  be  in  a  hurry,  Dan,"  said  Fred,  looking 
serious.  "  This  a  bad  business." 

"  That 's  all  very  true  ;  but  what  am  I  to  do  ?  You 
know  as  well  as  I  that  there  are  younger  fellows  in  the 
army." 

Fred  nodded  assent. 

"  Then  that  is  no  reason  why  they  wouldn't  take  me. 
I  want  to  go-7-have  been  wanting  to  go  ever  since  the 
war  began,  but  I  could  never  get  the  chance.  Now 
mother  's  with  her  friends,  I  'm  going  to  skip,  if  I  have 
to  do  it  when  they  are  not  looking." 

"  Better  not  do  that.  They  '11  let  you  go  if  you  stick 
to  it.  After  all,  if  you  've  made  up  your  mind,  it  would 


40  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

be  best  to  let  you  go.  They  '11  see  it  in  that  light,  only 
there  '11  be  the  usual  amount  of  crying." 

"  I  suppose  there  will ;  but  it  can't  be  helped." 

"  But  think  a  moment,  Dan  ;  there  are  many  sides  to 
this  thing.  A  bullet  through  your  lungs  or  liver  or 
heart  or  your  head  torn  open  with  a  shell,  isn't  the 
worst  of  it.  Camp  life  isn't  all  that  it 's  cracked  up  to 
be.  And  then  the  endless  tramps  !" 

I  shuddered,  but  did  not  waver. 

"  But  you  say  you  are  to  have  horses.  Why  couldn't 
I  go  with  you  ?  Wouldn't  they  take  me  ?" 

"  Why,  yes,  and  it 's  a  good  regiment  to  join,  but  it 's 
not  so  sure  that  we  are  to  have  Horses.  They  said  so, 
and  there  '11  be  a  row  if  we  don't ;  but  we  may  not  get 
them,  after  all.  But  if  we  do,  there 's  the  camp  and 
the  mud  and  wet  and  disease  and  wounds  and  prisons. 
There  's  much  to  be  thought  of." 

"  And  I  Ve  thought  of  it.  Why  did  your  regiment 
go  in,  if  they  once  got  out  of  it  ?  For  the  thirteen  dollars 
a  month  ?" 

Fred  scratched  his  head  and  answered  : 

"  It 's  hard  telling  what  most  of  us  joined  again  for. 
I  suppose  most  of  us  couldn't  stay  away  if  we  tried. 
The  thirteen  dollars  had  mighty  little  to  do  with  it.  A 
fellow  don't  stand  up  to  be  shot  at  for  thirteen  dollars 
a  month,  if  that 's  the  end  of  it." 

"  But  somebody  must  have  found  a  reason.  What 
did  they  say  ?"  I  asked,  pressing  the  point. 

"  Most  of  'em  said  they  were  not  going  to  quit  now  ; 
they  would  see  it  through.  One  man,  when  asked  if 
he  was  going  to  put  his  name  down,  said  :  '  Yes,  if  I 
was  out,  I  couldn't  stay  out  while  this  thing  is  going 
on.'  One  fellow,  who  lost  his  two  brothers  on  picket 
at  Stone  River,  said  :  '  I  owe  the  Johnnies  something, 
and  I'm  going  to  stay  to  pay  it.'  One  man  came  out  of 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  41 

the  hospital  and  put  his  name  down.  I  heard  another 
man  say  he  re-enlisted  because  the  others  did ;  but 
perhaps  the  greatest  sacrifice  of  all  was  that  made 
by  Eli  Norcross.  His  mother  is  old  and  feeble  in 
health;  his  wife  and  children  poor,  and  looking  with 
hope  and*  longing  for  his  return  to  their  midst. 
The  boys  all  watched  him  as  he  came  forward ;  with 
the  perspiration  starting  from  his  face.  His  hand 
trembled  a  little  as  he  leaned  over  the  roll,  but  he 
signed." 

"  These  fellows  know  all  there  is  in  it ;  they  don't 
hesitate.  I  want  my  share.  Now  don't  try  to  persuade 
me  not  to  go,"  I  said,  noting  Fred  was  about  to  speak  ; 
"  my  mind  is  made  up  to  that ;  but  help  me  to  go  away 
easily." 

"All  right,  I  will,  Dan.  After  all,  you  wouldn't  be 
much  of  a  chap  if  you  did  not  want  to  go.  I  was  not 
as  old  as  you  when  I  went.  Now,  what  do  you  know 
about  handling  a  gun  ?" 

"  O,  I  know  a  little.  There  were  few  boys  East  who 
could  not  go  through  the  manual  of  arms  with  a  broom, 
and  I  learned  it  with  the  rest." 

"  That 's  good,  you  've  got  the  motions,  eh  ?  Well, 
now,  I  will  get  a  musket  somewhere  and  help  you  a 
little,  for  even  if  we  have  horses,  it  won't  hurt  you  to 
know  how  to  handle  a  gun;  and  if  we  're  made  cavalry, 
we  Ve  all  to  learn  to  drill." 

We  kept  silence  about  our  plans  and  went  to  work. 
A  musket  was  obtained  and  kept  hidden  in  the  barn, 
except  in  the  morning  when  no  one  was  around.  Then 
it  made  its  appearance,  and  I  went  through  the  drill  at 
the  bidding  of  Fred.  He  seemed  to  take  delight  in 
teaching  me  ;  whether  his  mind  was  on  such  things,  and 
this  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  relieve  his  pent-up 
feelings,  or  whether  he  tortured  himself  for  my  benefit, 


42  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

I  do  not  know.  At  any  rate,  in  a  very  short  time  I 
grew  accustomed  to  handling  the  gun. 

Meanwhile,  all  knowledge  of  our  doings  was  kept  a 
profound  secret.  We  were  going  to  put  off  telling  the 
folks  until  two  or  three  days  before  the  time  should 
come  for  us  to  leave,  as  we  did  not  wish  the  time  for 
grief  and  tears  spread  out  any  more  than  was  necesary. 

I  had  been  going  through  this  exercise  daily  more 
than  a  week,  when  one  morning,  while  we  were  hard  at 
it,  and  more  than  ever  oblivious  to  everything  else, 
something  was  wanted  of  Fred  at  the  house  and  he 
was  called  for.  As  no  answer  came  to  repeated  calls,  it 
occurred  to  Mary  that  she  had  seen  him  strolling  to- 
ward the  barn  a  short  time  before,  and  starting  out  to 
find  him,  caught  us  at  work. 

I  was  not  quite  as  quick  as  usual  ;  at  any  rate  Fred 
found  fault  at  the  slow  time  I  made  loading  the  gun. 

He  was  saying  :  "  That 's  too  slow,"  taking  the  gun. 
"  It  goes  to  count  like  this — one,  two,  three,  four," 
speaking  quickly.  "  So  now,  then,"  handing  it  back  to 
me,  "try  it  again." 

As  he  stepped  back  to  give  me  room  I  saw  Mary 
standing  in  the  doorway  behind  him.  The  light  was  at 
her  back,  so  that  I  could  not  see  her  face. 

"  Fred,"  she  said,  in  a  soft,  sad  voice,  "mother  wants 
you." 

I  felt  that  she  knew  all.  And  when,  after  Fred  left 
us,  she  came  up  to  me,  I  could  see  that  her  face  was 
pale,  that  her  lips  quivered  and  that  tears  were  trem- 
bling on  her  eyelids. 

"  You  are  going  to  the  war,"  she  said,  laying  her  soft 
little  hand  on  my  arm. 

The  blood  rushed  to  my  face,  my  heart  seemed  to 
come  up  into  my  throat,  and  for  the  first  time  I  felt 
sorry  for  the  step  I  was  taking,  realized  what  I  was 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  43 

breaking-  away  from.  But  it  was  only  for  an  instant, 
although  it  took  all  my  strength  away  and  forced  me  to 
sit  down.  Mary  took  a  seat  beside  me. 

"And  Fred  is  going,  too,"  she  sobbed,  turning  her 
face  away. 

I  took  one  of  her  hands  and  drew  her  a  little  toward 
me  without  her  noticing  it.  My  voice  was  scarcely 
steadier  than  hers  when  I  began,  although  it  grew 
stronger. 

"  Yes,  Mary,  we  are  both  going.  Fred,  although  he 
did  not  tell  you,  re-enlisted  before  he  left  his  regiment. 
He  could  not  stay,  and  when  he  goes  to  join  his  regi- 
ment I  'm  going  with  him." 

"  And  you  would  not  tell  us,  Dan  !"  she  said,  reproach- 
fully. 

"  It  would  have  done  no  good.  If  we  had,  the  fact 
would  have  spoiled  Fred's  furlough.  We  were  going  to 
keep  quiet  until  two  or  three  days  before  the  time  came 
for  us  to  leave." 

Mary  could  not  stop  her  tears.  I  was  beside  myself, 
not  knowing  how  to  comfort  her.  I  felt  as  if  I  had  done 
her  an  injury,  drew  her  closer  to  me  and  tried  my  best 
to  change  the  current  of  her  thoughts.  We  began 
again  to  talk,  and,  once  started,  I  could  not  stop  until  I 
had  told  her  everything.  Many  things  I  said  that  I  had 
never  expected  to  say  to  her. 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  that  pleasant  day.  The 
dry  and  withered  grass  seemed  just  beginning  to  turn 
green,  I  thought.  The  air,  the  sky,  the  distant  woods 
and  hills  seemed  just  ready  to  burst  into  the  beauties  of 
spring.  My  own  life  seemed  rather  strange,  as  my  eyes 
wandered  from  the  quiet  village  outside  to  Mary's  head 
with  its  sunny,  waving  hair,  resting  upon  my  shoulder. 
Yet  I  never  wavered  in  my  purpose  to  take  my  musket 
in  hand  and  depart  when  the  time  should  come. 


44 


THE     GUN-BEARER. 


In  the  sweet,  sad  days  that  followed  Mary  gave  no 
sign  to  the  others  of  what  Fred  and  I  had  in  view ; 
only  her  eyes  were  sometimes  red  in  the  morning,  as  if 
she  had  been  crying,  and  once  in  a  while  I  found  her 
sitting  silent,  her  hands,  from  which  the  work  had 
fallen,  folded  in  her  lap,  and  her  eyes  dim  and  blank. 

But  we  were  more  together  now  than  before.  I  did 
not  try  to  avoid  her  any  longer.  There  was  a  promise 
between  us,  that  if  I  escaped  the  clutches  of  war  I  was 
to  call  for  her.  She  would  wait  for  me. 

So  these  little  scenes  of  comedy  and  tragedy  were 
enacted  in  and  around  that  Kentucky  home,  and  yet 
unnoticed ;  hours  of  drill  in  the  use  of  the  gun  in  the 
morning ;  long  walks  or  drives  with  Mary  in  the  after- 
noon when  the  weather  was  pleasant. 

But  the  time  came  when  they  had  to  be  told — the 
fathers  and  mothers,  I  mean.  Fred  and  I  came  off 
victorious  from  the  struggle ;  but  let  me  pass  over  it 
in  silence. 

Two  days  later  came  the  hour  of  parting.  It  was  a 
dark  and  dismal  time,  especially  for  me.  Fred  had 
been  anxious  for  the  time  to  come.  True,  he  was  leav- 
ing home,  but  he  was  going  back  to  the  camp  of  old 
companions,  to  scenes  he  had  grown  to  love.  I  was 
going  into  a  new  country,  to  new  scenes,  regions  of 
death  and  horror,  leaving  behind  me  home,  pleasures, 
love — all  for  what  ? 

At  that  time  I  could  find  no  answer  to  this  question. 
But  I  would  not  turn  back,  and  Fred  and  I  departed, 
going  south. 


CHAPTER   III. 

About  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following 
day  we  reached  Lebanon,  a  large  town  at  the  terminus 
of  the  railway.  The  houses  were  old,  dirty  and  dust- 
covered  ;  the  streets  were  thick  with  a  fine  yellow  dust 
which  the  feet  of  hundreds  of  mule  teams  and  the 
wheels  of  army  wagons  were  grinding  still  finer  and 
throwing  into  the  air  until  it  was  loaded  with  a  yellow 
haze  that  filled  the  lungs  and  settled  like  a  mantle  upon 
everything. 

At  the  quartermaster's  department  we  learned  that  a 
train  was  about  to  leave  for  our  point  of  rendezvous  on 
the  Cumberland  River.  We  started  out  to  find  the 
train,  but  it  was  almost  sundown,  and  we  were  just 
about  to  give  up  the  search  when  a  voice  from  a  pass- 
ing wagon  hailed  us : 

"  Hi,  Fred,  hello  there  !  Whoa !  Where  you  going  ? 
Here,  this  way !" 

Looking  through  the  clouds  of  dust  in  the  direction 
of  the  voice  we  saw  a  man  standing  on  a  wagon  tongue, 
leaning  over  the  back  of  a  mule,  and  gesticulating 
frantically. 

"  Come  here  !"  said  the  voice  through  the  dust. 

"Who  is  it,  Fred,"  I  asked. 

"It  looks  like  Jack  Maddox,"  answered  Fred;  "but 

[45] 


46  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

he 's  so  thickly  covered  with  this  infernal  dust  that  his 
own  mother  would  not  know  him.  Let's  see,"  said  he, 
walking  toward  him. 

1  followed  and  soon  saw  Fred  grasp  the  fellow  by  the 
hand,  and  heard  him  say  : 

•'Jack,  I  would  not  have  known  you  for  dirt." 

"  Well,  there 's  a  heap  of  dirt  here  for  sure,  but  it 's 
better  than  mud.  Goin'  back  to  the  company  ?" 

"  Yes.  But  what  are  you  doing  here,  driving  a  team  ? 
Haven't  left  the  company,  have  you  ?" 

"  Yes.  You  see,  Fred,  the  horses  haven't  come,  and 
it  didn't  look  to  me  as  if  they  ever  would.  I  'm  sick  of 
tramping,  so  when  this  chance  opened  in  the  quarter- 
master's department  I  got  the  detail." 

"  Like  it  ?"  Fred  asked. 

"  Like  it !  Well,  I  don't  like  it  so  well  as  I  should  like 
to  be  with  the  boys  if  they  were  made  mounted  infantry. 
One  horse  is  easier  to  take  care  of  than  half  a  dozen  ugly 
mules.  But  things  don't  look  first-rate  for  the  horses, 
and  I'm  not  goin'  to  take  any  chances ;  'sides,  I  get  bet- 
ter feed  where  I  am,  sleep  in  the  wagon,  and  don't  have 
to  tramp  and  carry  everything  on  my  back." 

" There  is  no  doubt  about  our  horses,  is  there?" 

u  They  haven't  come  yet,"  and  Jack  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"  What  do  they  say  about  it  ?"  Fred  asked. 

"  I  heard  one  of  the  officers  say  t'other  day  that  Gen- 
eral Potter  had  promised  in  writing  that  horses  would 
be  furnished  and  the  regiment  should  be  mounted." 

"  There  is  no  danger  but  what  they  '11  get  'em,  Jack  ; 
they  would  not  get  us  in  under  promise  of  giving  horses 
and  then  back  out." 

"  Well,  I  hope  they  will  ;  but  I  am  trusting  Jack  Mad- 
dox,  just  now.  But,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice,  and 
looking  toward  me,  "  who  's  that  with  you  ?" 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  47 

"  That 's  my  cousin.  Here,  Dan,"  said  Fred,  turning 
to  me,  "  this  is  Jack  Maddox.  You  remember  I  told 
you  about  him.  He 's  the  fellow  who  did  the  good 
turn  for  me  at  Mill  Springs.  My  cousin,  Jack  ;  he 's 
going  to  enlist  in  our  company." 

"  It 's  a  good  company,"  said  Jack,  nodding  his  head, 
taking  me  by  the  hand  and  looking  me  over  seriously. 
"  There  are  no  better  men  in  a  skirmish,  and  no  better 
men  in  a  fight  than  those  men  ;  they  hang  together, 
somehow,  better  than  most  men,  and  you  can't  skeer 
'em  a  little  bit." 

"  Same  officers  ?"  Fred  asked. 

"Pretty  much.  Of  course  you  know  of  the  new 
captain.  Hartee  's  his  name.  Nobody  knows  anything 
about  him,  except  he 's  seen  service.  He 's  a  good 
talker,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  him  and  the  way  he 
talked  about  the  horses  at  Strawberry  Plains,  I  don't 
believe  so  many  of  the  men  would  have  'listed  again. 
But  come,  if  you  're  goin'  to  camp  right  away  you  might 
as  well  get  on  and  ride;  it 's  a  heap  easier,  and  it 's  a 
right  smart  tramp  to  the  river." 

We  climbed  to  a  seat  beside  the  dusty,  good-natured 
driver,  and  while  Fred  and  he  discussed  the  probabili- 
ties of  the  company  being  mounted,  and  all  the  little 
odds  and  ends  of  camp  gossip  he  had  picked  up  relating 
to  the  question,  I  lay  back  against  a  barrel  and  list- 
ened, with  my  eyes  closed. 

Mile  after  mile  of  that  dusty  road  we  passed,  nor  did 
we  stop  until  long  after  sundown,  when  he  came  to  a 
halt  by  the  side  of  a  creek.  Here  we  washed,  built  a 
fire,  made  coffee,  and  fried  pieces  of  beef,  which,  with 
soft  bread,  completed  our  supper.  Here  also  we  slept, 
wrapped  in  blankets — thanks  to  Maddox — by  the  fire. 
Early  the  next  morning,  about  daylight,  after  a  hasty 
bath  and  breakfast,  we  were  on  the  road  again. 


48  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

Up  and  down  hill  we  went,  with  nothing1  but  the 
creaking  of  the  wagon  frame,  groaning  under  its  heavy 
load;  the  rattle  and  clatter  of  camp  kettles,  frying- 
pans  and  buckets  that  were  hung  from  beneath,  the 
shout  of  the  driver,  the  crack  of  his  long  whip,  or  an 
occasional  remark  from  him  or  from  Fred,  to  break  the 
monotony  of  the  ride.  On  we  went  through  Liberty, 
Mount  Gilead  and  Somerset,  until,  on  the  afternoon  of 
the  second  day,  we  came  in  sight  of  the  river  where  Jack 
Maddox,  pointing  to  the  side  of  a  distant  hill,  said  : 

"  There  's  camp." 

"  What  have  they  got,  tents  or  log-houses  ?"  Fred 
asked. 

"Tents.  We  can  see  them  a  little  further  up  on 
the  road,"  Jack  answered,  and  we  relapsed  into  silence. 

Perhaps  half  a  mile  further,  and  we  were  at  the  top 
of  the  hill,  from  which  we  could  look  across  the  little 
valley  to  the  camp. 

I  saw  that  it  was  situated  on  the  north  side  of  the 
Cumberland  River,  on  the  hillside  plateau  above  the 
road,  and  that  it  overlooked  the  river,  valley  and  away 
to  the  hills  and  mountains  beyond. 

I  could  make  out  lines  and  rows  and  squares  of 
small  tents,  a  group  of  larger  tents,  a  flagstaff  from 
which  floated  the  Stars  and  Stripes;  while  here  and 
there  the  smoke  from  a  burning  camp-fire  drifted  lazily 
along  on  the  still  air. 

"  So  that 's  camp,  is  it  ?"  said  I,  partly  to  myself,  and 
yet  loud  enough  for  Fred  to  hear,  who  answered  : 

"  Yes,  good  place,  isn't  it !"  he  said,  with  a  tone  of 
approval  in  his  voice. 

"  It 's  out  of  the  dust ;  that 's  one  good  thing  about 
it,"  said  I,  "and  has  a  good  prospect  over  the  surround- 
ing country." 

Then  Fred  and  Jack  compared  its  location  with  some 


HAT  yor,  .MARS'  DAX  r    .set  J*agt  52. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  49 

other  place  they  had  camped  in,  while  I,  partly  listen- 
ing to  them  and  partly  wondering  what  my  first  duties 
would  be,  said  nothing  more.  When  we  reached  the  foot 
of  the  hill  leading  up  to  the  camp  we  left  the  wagon,  to 
ascend  on  foot. 

At  the  top  we  paused  to  look  over  the  scene,  and  I 
saw  men  moving  about,  building  fires,  carrying  wood 
and  water,  cleaning  guns,  putting  up  tents,  &c.,  &c. 

"  You  never  saw  a  camp  before,  did  you,  Dan  ?"  Fred 
asked  as  we  stood  there.  "  When  the  regiment  is  full 
each  company  has  fifty  tents,  divided  into  five  rows, 
and,  with  the  exception  of  a  company  street,  sometimes 
twenty-five  feet  wide,  a  space  of  about  six  feet  between 
them.  The  officers  have  their  tents  near  their  com- 
panies. Over  there,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  row  of  larger 
tents  at  the  further  end  of  the  line,  "  is  the  regimental 
headquarters.  Just  back  of  that,  in  that  large  tent,  is 
the  sutler,  where  we  can  buy  condensed  milk  at  fifty 
cents  a  can ;  molasses  cakes,  not  more  than  a  mouthful, 
at  thirty  cents  a  dozen;  canned  meats,  oysters,  fish, 
preserves  and  jellies  of  all  kinds ;  even  butter  and  fresh 
milk  and  extravagantly  high-priced  eggs,  and  not  war- 
ranted good  at  that,  are  also  sold  there." 

"  What  is  that  vacant  space  over  there  ?"  I  asked, 
pointing  to  the  open  end  of  the  plateau. 

"  I  suppose  that  will  be  used  mostly  for  exercising  us 
in  horse-movements.  But  come,  let 's  go  to  the  captain's 
tent  and  report.  There  you  can  sign  the  roll,  and  we 
can  get  orders  for  tents,  blankets  and  so  forth." 

We  approached  the  camp,  where  Fred  was  pleasantly 
greeted  by  members  of  the  different  companies  through 
which  we  passed. 

"  Where 's  company  D,"  he  asked  of  a  man  who  had 
been  tightening  up  one  corner  of  his  tent,  and  was 
driving  the  pins  into  a  new  place. 


50  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  Lower  end  of  the  line,"  the  man  replied. 

We  soon  came  to  the  company,  and  after  an  intro- 
duction and  a  hearty  shake  of  hands  all  around,  we 
went  to  the  captain's  tent,  where  I  discovered  what 
was  necessary  to  complete  my  formal  joining  of  the 
company. 

I  signed  the  roll,  and  as  I  made  the  last  strokes  to 
my  name  I  happened  to  look  over  the  heads  of  the 
officers  sitting  by  the  camp-table,  to  the  back  end  of 
the  tent,  and  there  saw  somebody  just  lifting  up  the 
flap,  to  come  in.  As  he  straightened  up  inside  the  tent, 
I  recognized,  much  to  my  astonishment,  the  stranger 
of  the  Waytown  Arms.  But  he  gave  no  sign  that 
recognition  was  mutual.  No  doubt  the  face  of  the 
boy  who  had  listened  to  him  reading  the  news  of  the 
war  had  long  since  passed  from  his  mind.  I,  however, 
knew  him  at  once,  although  he  had  grown  older  and 
bigger.  He  evidently  did  not  notice  me  or  the  stare 
with  which  I  honored  him,  for  he  turned  to  speak  with 
some  of  the  officers,  and  I,  pulling  myself  together,  fol- 
lowed Fred  out  of  the  tent. 

"  Who  is  that  man  ?"  I  asked  Fred,  as  we  came  out- 
side. 

"That's  Captain  Hartees,  our  captain,"  he  replied 
carelessly. 

The  conversation  stopped  here,  and  we  followed  the 
sergeant,  who  took  us  to  the  quartermaster,  where  I 
received  a  suit  of  army  blue,  overcoat  and  all — haver- 
sack, knapsack,  canteen,  rubber  blanket,  woolen  blanket 
and  half  of  a  shelter-tent.  Fred  took  the  other  half — a 
tin  dipper  that  would  hold  at  least  a  quart  and  a  tin 
plate. 

At  Fred's  suggestion  I  had  bought  at  Louisville  a 
knife,  fork  and  spoon  that  folded  together  completely. 
In  addition  to  the  other  things  I  also  received  a  gun,  a 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  51 

bayonet,  a  belt,  bayonet-scabbard,  and  cartridge- 
box. 

With  this  load  we  followed  the  sergeant  back  to  the 
company,  where  our  position  in  line  was  pointed  out, 
and  I  took  my  first  lesson  in  tent-pitching. 

First  we  obtained,  from  the  woods  near  by,  two 
forked  sticks  for  the  two  standards,  and  a  straight  stick 
to  serve  as  a  ridge-pole.  The  forked  sticks  were  then 
driven  into  the  ground,  and  the  ridge-pole  laid  into  the 
crotches  of  these  uprights.  The  two  tent  halves  were 
then  buttoned  together,  thrown  over  the  cross-poles, 
and  the  ends  brought  to  the  earth,  where  they  were 
pinned  tightly,  forming  a  regular  pitch  roof. 

All  around  our  tent,  which  was  about  six  feet  long, 
five  feet  wide,  and  just  high  enough  in  the  center  for 
one  to  sit  down  inside  and  not  have  his  head  touch  the 
ridge-pole,  we  dug  a  deep  ditch  to  receive  and  lead 
off  the  water  in  rainy  weather.  On  the  inside,  close  to 
where  the  cloth  was  pinned  to  the  ground,  we  banked 
up  the  earth  to  further  insure  protection  against  water. 

From  Jack  Maddox  we  obtained  all  the  hay  we 
wanted.  This  we  spread  on  the  ground,  under  the 
tent,  and  covered  with  a  rubber  blanket.  Our  canvas 
home  was  hardly  completed  when  some  one  said  : 

"  There  goes  the  grub-call,  boys.  Better  go  up  and 
get  your  coffee." 

"  What,  already  ?"  said  Fred.  Then,  turning  to  me  : 
"  Get  your  dipper  and  plate,  Dan,  and  let 's  go." 

With  our  new  tin  plates  and  dippers,  Fred  and  I 
hastened  to  interview  the  cook. 

As  we  approached  the  fire,  already  surrounded  by 
men  drawing  their  rations,  I  saw  a  stalwart  negro,  on 
his  knees,  holding  over  a  bed  of  red  coals  a  frying-pan, 
the  sizzling  contents  of  which  he  was  turning  with  a 
fork.  The  man  was  jet-black,  apparently  oblivious  of 


52  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

his  surroundings,  and  was  singing,  in  a  low  musical 
tone: 

"Nebber  min'  de  wedder,  so  de  win'  don't  blow; 
Nebber  min'  de  wedder,  so  de  win'  don't  blow; 
Nebber  min'  de  wedder,  so  de  win'  don't  blow ; 
Don't  yer  bodder  'bout  yer  trouble  till  it  comes." 

"  Same  old  song,  Lige,"  said  Fred. 

The  man  grinned,  rolled  up  his  eyes,  and  nodded  in 
assent ;  then,  starting  quickly  as  he  glanced  at  me,  said  : 

•'Golly  !  Dat  you,  Maws'  Dan  ?  I's  glad  ter  see  yer. 
'Deed,  I  is." 

"  How 's  this,  Dan  ?"  said  Fred.  "  Do  you  know  black 
Lige  ?" 

"No.     I  never  saw  him  before." 

"  What !  Don'  yer  know  me,  Maws'  Dan  ?  I 's  Lige — 
brack  Lige,  whose  ole  mamma  used  to  tote  yer  in  her 
arms  when  yer  wus  a  pickerninny.  Don'  yer  'member 
her  ?" 

"  Mistake,  Lige.  I  am  Daniel  Wright ;  came  from 
the  North,  where  I  was  born." 

"  Bawn  in  de  Norf  ?  Wasn't  raised  'round  yuh  ?  Das 
jes  like  yer — foolin'  ol'  Lige." 

"  No,  Lige ;  I  'm  not  fooling." 

"  Well,  I  thought  yer  was  my  ol'  maw 's  boy ;  yer 
does  look  pow'ful  like  him  for  sho."  Then  turning  his 
attention  to  the  frying-pan,  he  added :  "  But  I  s'pose 
yer  wouldn't  be  'round  yuh,  do ;  yer  wouldn't  be  'round 
yuh  ?"  Saying  which,  and  as  if  dismissing  the  subject, 
he  sang  : 

"  Nebber  min'  de  wedder,  so  de  win'  don't  blow; 
Don'  yer  bodder  'bout  yer  trouble  till  it  comes." 

"  I  say,  Lige,"  said  Fred,  after  a  while,  "  sing  the  other 
one.  I  want  Dan  to  hear  it." 

"  Long  's  Maws'  Dan  done  born  in  he  Norf,"  said 
Lige,  after  a  moment  of  hesitation  and  with  a  quizzical 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  53 

look  at  me,  "  I 's  bound  ter  sing  it.  But  dat  's  more  'n 
a  song,  Maws'  Fred  ;  mor  'n  a  song." 

Taking  from  the  fire  the  pan  he  had  been  tending  he 
stood  erect  and  fixed  his  eyes  steadily  on  mine.  His 
gaze  was  sharply  questioning,  almost  fierce  at  first,  but 
soon  turned  into  a  vacant,  far-off  stare,  broken  at  length 
by  a  sudden  flash  of  expression,  when,  throwing  back 
his  head  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  sky,  he  broke  forth 
into  a  strain  so  abrupt,  impassioned  and  of  an  energy 
so  wild  that  it  seemed  inspired  by  a  soul  too  large  for 
mortal  form.  It  was  not  Black  Lige's  voice  we  heard, 
but  the  voice  of  his  people,  the  cry  of  an  oppressed 
race,  struggling,  striking  and  dying  for  liberty.  It 
rang  out  in  trumpet  tones,  drawing  and  thrilling  the 
entranced  listeners,  who  came  softly  stealing  up  from 
all  directions. 

As  the  chant  moved  to  a  close  the  voice  swelled  with 
the  waxing  theme,  and  Lige  stood  like  one  turned  to 
stone ;  then,  as  tears  started  from  his  eyes,  the  tones 
became  more  tender  and  subdued,  dying  away  at  length 
in  a  hoarse  whisper.  Even  after  the  song  was  ended 
Lige's  glance  did  not  wander  from  the  heavens.  His 
lips  moved  and  there  was  a  look  in  his  eye  as  if  he  saw 
in  the  air  above  a  something  that  was  vanishing,  yet  he 
could  not  look  away  from  it  till  it  was  quite  gone  from 
view.  When  he  did  turn  to  the  circle  of  silent  and 
awe-struck  soldiers  gathered  round  him  he  looked 
dazed;  and  sinking  to  the  ground,  he  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands.  After  a  moment,  when  most  of  the 
soldiers  had  gone  away,  Lige  got  up  and  resumed  the 
work  that  our  coming  and  the  song  had  interrupted. 

"  Who  is  that  man,  Fred  ?"  I  asked,  after  we  received 
our  rations  of  coffee,  hard  bread  and  fried  beef,  and  had 
moved  away  from  the  fire. 

"  The  captain's  cook;  got  him  somewhere  in  Tennessee, 


54  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

a  year  ago.  Do  you  know,  Dan,  I  Ve  heard  Lige  sing 
that  last  song  of  his  three  or  four  times,  and  each  time 
I  hear  it  there  seems  to  be  something  new  about  it. 
He  's  a  whole-souled  fellow,  is  Lige,  wonderfully  clever; 
got  lots  of  good  sense,  and  does  about  as  he  pleases. 
He  is  quite  a  favorite  with  the  boys.  They  never  mock 
him  or  impose  on  him  in  any  way.  He 's  manly  and 
commands  respect,  in  spite  of  some  of  his  oddities. 
Then,  too,  he  will  find  things  to  eat  when  no  one  else 
can.  The  captain  fares  well  with  Black  Lige  to  care 
for  him.  Funny  he  called  you  by  name."  , 

"  Merely  a  coincidence,"  I  responded. 

"  I  suppose  so."  Then,  as  if  noticing  for  the  first  time 
the  contents  of  his  plate,  he  continued :  "  This  is  pretty 
good,  Dan  ;  we  don't  get  fried  meat  very  often." 

"  What  do  you  get  ?" 

"  Coffee  and  hard-tack." 

"  A  simple  meal  for  a  hungry  man." 

"  Yes,  rather  ;  but  to-morrow  1 11  get  a  junk  of  salt 
pork  ;  that 's  the  stuff  ;  that  '11  give  us  a  meal  fit  for  a 
king.  There 's  nothing  like  salt  pork  for  a  regular 
'stand  by.'  With  that,  either  fried,  broiled,  toasted, 
boiled,  baked  or  raw  and  a  little  hard,  or  even  a  little 
soft  tack  to  eat  with  it,  a  man  always  feels  well,  can 
stand  any  amount  of  marching,  and  is  never  hungry. 
You  can  do  anything  in  the  line  of  cooking  if  you  only 
have  a  little  salt  pork.  If  you  have  beans  to  cook,  it 's 
the  pork  cooked  with  them  that  makes  the  beans  fit  to 
eat.  If  you  want  a  little  fat  to  fry  your  meat  in,  if  you 
want  to  fry  pancakes,  or  do  anything  else  under  heaven 
for  which  fat  must  be  used,  pork  is  the  article  you  want. 
It  is  the  only  butter  a  soldier  gets  in  the  field.  Depend 
upon  it,  Dan,  there  's  nothing  like  pork." 

By  this  time  we  arrived  at  our  fire,  where  we  found 
three  of  Fred's  friends  (Alf  Kimball,  Dick  Taylor  and 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  55 

Jake  Bence),  Fred's  crowd,  as  he  called  them,  already 
seated  on  the  logs  about  it,  each  busily  discussing  his 
ration  of  beef  and  coffee. 

Fred  introduced  me  in  an  off-hand  manner,  and,  as  I 
took  my  seat,  I  became  so  much  one  of  them  as  if  we 
had  known  each  other  for  years ;  for  formality,  espe- 
cially at  meal  time,  has  no  place  about  a  soldier's  camp 
fire.  A  man's  heart  naturally  expands  as  his  stomach 
fills  ;  the  fresh  air  flavored  with  odors  of  burning  pine, 
steaming  coffee  and  frying  and  broiling  meat  lends  its 
charm  ;  an  atmosphere  of  bohemianism,  a  spirt  of 
romance,  and  a  sense  of  companionship  in  a  dangerous 
calling — all  combine  to  find  the  "good  fellow"  lurking 
(sometimes  pretty  well  concealed  in  some  of  us)  and 
drag  him  into  view. 

Kimball  was  a  good-natured,  fine-looking  fellow, 
easy-mannered  and  possessed  of  a  happy  faculty  of 
giving  conversation  on  unpleasant  subjects  a  turn  to 
keep  it  bright  and  pleasant.  He  was  always  ready  to 
take  things  as  they  came,  whether  it  was  a  plump 
goose,  a  fat  hog  or  an  order  to  march. 

Taylor  was  quiet,  good  natured,  always  ready  to  do  a 
favor  for  any  one,  and  was  popular  with  all. 

Bence  was  a  big-boned  mountaineer  and  invet- 
erate growler.  To  give  Fred's  own  language  :  "  He  's 
a  good  feeder,  brave  to  recklessness,  good  on  a  forage, 
but  he  can  outgrowl  any  other  man  in  the  regiment." 

He  had  the  reputation,  also,  of  being  able  to  get  at 
all  there  was  going  on  among  the  officers  ;  and  if  there 
was  anything  to  be  done,  Bence  was  sure  to  know  it 
before  any  one  else — excepting,  perhaps,  Black  Lige. 

I  shall  never  forget  this,  my  first  meal  in  camp,  as  I 
sat  with  these  men  on  the  logs  by  our  fire,  drank  my 
coffee  and  ate  my  crackers  and  beef. 

The  sun  had  set.    In  the  fading  light  the  distant  hills 


56  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

came  out  in  bolder  outline,  and  seemed  to  draw  near, 
while  the  intervals  up  and  down  the  valley  and  along 
the  river  deepened  in  color  until  they  gradually  disap- 
peared. In  silence  I  listened  to  my  comrades  chatting 
good-naturedly  over  the  incidents  of  their  short  fur- 
lough— of  their  homes,  of  the  camp  and  its  surround- 
ings and  of  their  probable  future. 

Everything  was  so  new — my  uniform,  belt,  tin  dip- 
per, plate,  the  faces  of  the  men  about  me,  the  surround- 
ings— even  the  coffee,  the  hard  bread  and  the  fried  beef 
were  a  revelation  to  me. 

And  this  was  camp-life.  I  did  not  think  it  at  all 
disagreeable.  In  fact,  it  was  a  pleasant  hour  to  me, 
tired  as  I  was  with  the  excitement  of  new  scenes,  new 
work.  It  was  a  pleasant  sight,  the  fire  in  front  of  me, 
around  which  our  fellows  were  lounging  ;  the  other 
fires  further  off,  with  their  groups  of  men  against  a 
background  of  tents  ;  the  clear  night,  with  the  evening 
star  as  large  as  a  lantern  ;  the  night  wind  whispering 
in  the  woods. 

Of  all,  the  hardest  thing  to  realize  was  that  I  was  a 
soldier — not  my  own  master,  but  a  man  bound  to  obey 
orders — to  mount  and  ride  into  the  teeth  of  death  if 
need  be.  I  turned  this  strange  phase  of  a  soldier's 
character  over  and  over  in  my  mind,  the  voices  of  my 
companions  gradually  fading  from  my  ear,  and  in  such 
cogitations  I  went  back  to  the  first  results  of  war  I  had 
known — to  the  funeral  of  Mike  Clancy  at  Waytown,  to 
the  columns  upon  columns  of  reports  I  had  read  about 
the  battles  and  desperate  charges  of  cavalry ;  about 
infantry  facing,  undaunted,  storms  of  shot  and  shell 
that  were  slaughtering  them  by  the  thousands. 

But  what  had  I  to  do  with  this  ?  Then  I  was  a  boy  ; 
now  I  was  a  soldier.  Come  what  might,  I  would  follow 
my  company. 


THE     GUN-BEARER. 


57 


Then  Mary,  in  all  the  loveliness  of  her  youth,  glided 
into  my  mind.  Should  I  ever  see  her  again  ?  But  I 
put  that  thought  quickly  away.  What  was  she  doing 
then  ?  I  wondered.  And  as  I  thought  I  seemed  to  see 
her,  as  I  had  found  her  once  in  a  while,  when  we  were 
together,  sitting  by  herself,  dreaming,  and  her  vague, 
tear-dimmed  eyes  fixed  on  the  southern  hills.  And  I 
fancied  myself  at  her  side,  although  I  knew  those  same 
southern  hills  spread  wide  between  us. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

"  Come,  Dan,  turn  out ;  there  goes  the  roll-call  !"  said 
Fred,  the  next  morning,  punching  me  in  the  side  with 
his  elbow.  I  awoke  while  the  last  notes  of  the  bugle 
sounding  the  reveille  were  echoing  up  and  down  the 
river  through  the  valley  below.  The  sun  was  already 
up  and  shining  into  our  tent  through  the  open  end. 

"  Come,  Dan,  come  !  A  soldier  is  up  at  reveille,"  he 
cried  again,  giving  another  poke  to  assist  me  in  collect- 
ing my  drowsy  senses.  Throwing  off  the  blanket  I  crept 
out  of  the  tent  and  looked  about  me.  All  over  the 
camp  men  were  crawling  from  tents,  rubbing  their 
eyes,  and  assembling  in  little  groups  in  the  company 
streets. 

"  Good-looking  men,  Fred,"  I  said,  for  want  of  any- 
thing better,  and  accompanying  the  remark  with  a 
yawn,  still  feeling  decidedly  sleepy  and,  withal,  a  little 
chilly  at  being  forced  to  leave  a  nice  warm  bed  for 
the  cold  morning  air  from  the  river. 

Fred,  on  the  other  hand,  was  all  life  and  activity. 

"  No  better  men  in  the  country,"  he  responded 
briskly  as  he  dragged  our  accouterments  out  of  the 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  59 

tent.  "  These  men  are  mostly  from  the  mountains  of 
Kentucky,  thorough  Unionists  and  brave  to  a  man. 
But  come,  fall  in  ;  there  's  the  sergeant,  and  he's  going 
to  call  the  roll." 

I  was  soon  in  line  with  the  rest  of  our  company, 
responded  to  my  name  when  it  was  called,  and  then 
returned  to  the  tent  to  roll  up  my  blanket  and  clean  my 
musket,  which,  with  Fred's,  had  lain  between  us  all 
night.  While  at  work  over  it,  I  paused  often  to  survey 
the  scene  before  me.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly 
over  the  tops  of  the  hills,  upon  the  woods  and  meadows, 
and  making  luminous  the  thin  wreaths  of  mist  hanging 
above  the  river.  In  the  camp  our  little  dog-tents 
looked  clean  and  white  in  the  fresh  morning  light,  and, 
like  the  grass,  sparkled  with  beads  of  dew.  The  mo- 
ment was  one  of  life  and  activity,  our  camp  presenting 
a  most  animated  scene. 

Never  during  a  whole  day  does  a  camp  look  so  popu- 
lous as  in  the  early  morning  'hours,  when  every  man  is 
up  and  busy  about  his  tent,  bringing  things  into  order 
for  the  day.  From  one  end  of  the  encampment  to  the 
other  men  were  scattered  in  all  sorts  of  positions,  some 
cleaning  muskets,  as  I  was,  and  others  building  fires, 
still  others  bringing  wood  and  water.  In  some  places 
men  had  assembled  in  little  groups  and  gossiped  as  they 
worked ;  but,  as  a  rule,  we  were  separated,  each  man 
working  by  himself. 

Working  over  a  gun  is  good  exercise  ;  at  least,  it 
soon  brought  my  blood  into  better  circulation,  filled  my 
lungs  full  of  the  fresh  air,  and  in  consequence  dispelled 
much  of  the  discomfort  of  mind  and  body. 

"  Clean  mine  while  you  're  about  it,"  said  Fred  at  that 
moment,  coming  up  from  the  direction  of  the  cook's 
fire,  and  indicating  his  gun,  leaning  against  the  ridge- 
pole just  outside  the  tent,  "  How 's  this  for  a  piece  of 


60  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

pork  ?"  he  cried  exultingly,  holding  up  a  piece  of  salt 
pork  that  would  weigh  at  least  four  pounds. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Show  you  when  breakfast  is  ready  if  they  don't 
give  us  beef." 

"  Which  I  sincerely  hope  they  will,  for  I  don't  want 
to  commence  on  pork  before  I  have  to." 

"  I  hope  you  may  always  get  as  good,  my  boy,"  said 
Fred,  his  face  assuming  a  serious  look.  "  I  have  seen 
the  time,  more  than  once,  when  I  would  have  given 
almost  anything  for  a  piece  of  pork  like  this.  1 11  take 
care  of  it  now.  It  '11  keep  and  come  in  handy  before 
long."  And  he  stowed  it  away  in  his  haversack. 

"  How  much  longer  do  we  have  to  wait  before  break- 
fast is  ready  ?"  I  asked,  having  an  inward  feeling  that 
that  subject  was  not  receiving  all  the  attention  it  should 

"  Oh,  somewhere  between  half-past  six  and  seven 
o'clock.  It  '11  soon  be  ready  now.  Some  of  the  boys 
went  down  to  the  river  for  water  right  after  roll-call, 
and  as  soon  as  the  water  boils  and  the  coffee  is  made 
breakfast  is  ready." 

"  You  don't  need  to  do  anything  but  wipe  the  guns, 
do  you,  Fred  ?"  I  said,  after  having  wiped  away  every 
sign  of  moisture  from  the  barrel. 

"  Not  while  they  are  new,"  he  replied.  "  After  they 
have  seen  weather  and  the  fire-bronze  is  worn  off  it 
takes  a  little  elbow-grease  to  keep  them  clean.  As  long 
as  you  can  keep  the  bronze  on,  wiping  is  good  enough. 
Most  of  the  boys  prefer  to  keep  their  old  guns  to  hav- 
ing new  ones.  They  know  them,  you  see,  and  what 
they  can  do  with  them,  but  they  have  to  work  a  little 
harder  to  keep  them  in  shape." 

I  gave  my  gun  an  extra  rub,  rested  it  against  the 
ridgepole  and  began  on  Fred's.  "  What  follows  break- 
fast ?"  I  asked  him,  after  a  pause, 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  61 

"  Guard -mounting,  I  suppose." 

"  What  is  that  ?"  I  asked,  having,  however,  a  fair  idea 
of  what  he  meant. 

"  Relieving  the  guard  that  have  been  on  duty  all 
night." 

"  That  is  what  I  supposed.  But  is  there  any  particu- 
lar parade  about  it  ?" 

"  Usually  there  is,"  he  replied.  "  But  how  is  that, 
sergeant  ?"  he  cried  to  the  orderly  sergeant,  who  was 
passing  at  that  moment.  "  Are  we  to  have  guard- 
mounting  this  morning  ?" 

"  No,  not  until  all  the  officers  and  men  are  in.  Until 
then  the  guard  will  be  detailed  from  the  different 
companies,  without  parade.  It  was  our  turn  last 
night." 

"  Then  we  won't  come  in  for  it  again  for  a  week,"  said 
Fred.  "  Well,  I  don't  know  if  that  is  anything  to  crow 
over  ;  we'll  get  our  share  in  time,  and  not  have  to 
forage  for  it,  either." 

After  a  while  the  men  most  interested  in  the  prep- 
arations for  breakfast  began  to  gather  around  the 
cook's  fire,  where  they  stood  dreamily  gazing  at  the 
smoke  from  the  burning  wood  as 'it  curled  up  into  the 
air,  or  watched  the  steam  rise  from  the  kettles  as 
the  water  in  them  began  to  boil.  To  those  who  pre- 
ferred it  a  ration  of  uncooked  beef  was  served  instead 
of  fried  meat.  It  saved  the  cook  just  so  much  labor  if 
the  men  took  it  raw,  and  many  of  us  preferred  to  cook 
it  in  our  own  way. 

Fred  and  I,  for  instance,  availed  ourselves  of  the 
privilege,  and  took  our  meat  with  a  pot  of  hot  coffee, 
some  hard  bread,  and  a  can  of  condensed  milk,  tmr- 
chased  of  the  sutler,  to  another  fire. 

There,  with  my  coffee  resting  on  some  hot  coals  that 
I  had  raked  from  the  fire,  I  placed  my  piece  of  beef 


62  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

upon  the  end  of  a  pointed  stick  and  held  it  near  the 
flames  to  broil. 

It  was  an  interesting  sight  to  see  at  least  a  dozen 
men  squatting  round  the  fire  with  a  dozen  pots  of  coffee 
resting  on  little  piles  of  hot  coals  similar  to  my  own  ;  a 
dozen  outstretched  hands  and  sticks  holding  as  many 
pieces  of  beef  that  shriveled,  sputtered,  smoked  and 
blazed  in  the  flames,  and  the  men,  without  an  idea  of 
the  ludicrous  side  of  the  picture  they  were  making, 
gazing  seriously  and  earnestly  at  the  sizzling  beef. 

The  lower  part  of  the  beef  cooked,  the  ends  were 
reversed  and  returned  to  the  fire  until  the  rest  was 
done.  Then,  with  a  little  salt  for  seasoning,  the  meal 
was  ready,  and,  with  an  appetite  sharpened  by  the  clear 
morning  air,  I  fell  to.  Never  did  beef,  coffee  and  hard 
bread  taste  so  good.  The  beef  was  cooked  to  a  turn  ; 
the  coffee  was  fine  ;  and  the  hard  tack  was  fresh  and 
crisp. 

Breakfast  over,  the  awkward  squad  was  drilled  by  a 
corporal,  who  acted  as  instructor.  At  first,  we  made 
more  or  less  awkward  work  of  it  ;  but,  by  persevering, 
our  showing,  in  time,  was  good. 

After  this  came  dinner,  which,  while  we  were  at  this 
place,  usually  consisted  of  some  sort  of  stew,  made  of 
fresh  beef,  potatoes,  and  onions  ;  stewed  beans  and 
pork,  or  salt  beef  and  vegetables,  with  an  occasional 
treat  of  boiled  rice  to  give  a  variety. 

Day  after  day  we  went  through  this  sort  of  thing, 
becoming  more  familiar  with  the  use  of  a  gun,  and 
getting  an  infusion  of  military  experience,  discipline 
and  skill  in  maneuvering,  that  in  every  way  fitted  us  to 
drill  with  the  company  whenever  they  began. 

As  stragglers  kept  coming  in  all  this  time,  our  ranks 
were  soon  full,  and  all  the  officers  present — the  colonel 
coming  almost  the  last  of  all.  Everybody  was  on  the 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  63 

watch  for  him,  and  his  arrival  was  known  almost  in- 
stantly throughout  the  whole  camp,  although  we  were 
busy  with  our  supper  at  the  time. 

"  Now  look  out  for  battalion  drills  and  see  if  our 
horses  don't  soon  show  up,"  remarked  Fred. 

"  Yes,  if  we  are  to  have  them  !"  growled  Jake  Bence, 
at  my  elbow,  never  taking  his  eyes  from  the  beef  he 
was  holding  to  the  fire.  "  They  Ve  as  good  as  lied  to 
us,  and  I  tell  you,  Fred,  I  'm  getting  mighty  sick  of  it," 
and  there  was  a  sour  expression  on  his  face  which  cor- 
responded strictly  with  the  sentiment  and  tone  of  his 
grumbling. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  next  day,  as  we  expected,  all  the  companies  were 
ordered  out  for  drill,  and  we  exercised  on  the  parade 
ground,  in  all  known  movements  for  infantry,  for  at 
least  an  hour,  marching,  countermarching,  forward, 
right  oblique  and  left  oblique  ;  now  at  a  double  quick, 
then  at  common  time,  marching  with  a  full  regimental 
front,  or  in  column,  and  then  wheeling  front  into  line. 

Then  came  the  parade,  where  we  went  through  the 
manual  of  arms,  and  at  "  rest,"  while  the  drums  and  fife 
marched  up  and  down  the  line  playing  "  Yankee 
Doodle,"  "  Hail  Columbia  "  or  the  "  Star  Spangled  Ban- 
ner." 

Every  day,  when  it  was  pleasant,  we  went  through 
these  movements.  I  could  not  see  the  necessity  for  it 
then,  but  I  see  now  how  important  it  all  was.  When  it 
happened  to  be  stormy,  the  men  who  were  not  on 
guard  kept  their  tents  and  wrote  letters  home  or 
amused  themselves  in  reading. 

Those  little  dog  tents  were  anything  but  comfortable 
in  wet  weather.  The  space  inside  was  very  small,  and 
the  cloth  so  thin  that  one  could  scarcely  touch  it  on  the 
inside  without  getting  wet.  A  severe  rainstorm  fell 
upon  us  one  day.  Fred  and  I  covered  both  ends  of  our 
tent  with  rubber  blankets  and,  sitting  under  the  ridge- 
[64] 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  65 

pole,  tried  to  write.  But  the  wind,  which  had  full 
sweep  of  the  plateau,  seemed  to  drive  the  water  in  tor- 
rents upon  us.  The  rain  beat  so  hard  that  it  penetrated 
the  cloth  and  fell  in  a  fine  spray  over  us,  wetting  us, 
and  making  the  place  so  uncomfortable  that  writing 
was  out  of  the  question.  We  had  to  make  the  best  of 
it,  however,  and  sat  and  smoked  until  the  worst  of  the 
storm  was  over.  That  was  the  most  miserable  and  dis- 
agreeably wet  day  I  had  passed  yet.  On  every  fairly 
pleasant  day  we  went  through  the  same  course  of  drill- 
ing over  and  over  again,  always  for  infantry — there 
were  no  horses  yet. 

The  colonel  had  come.  All  the  officers  and  men  had 
reported  for  duty.  Still  no  horses. 

The  team  drivers  who  came  into  camp  or  were  met 
driving  by  were  asked  had  they  seen  them  on  the  road. 
And  they  answered : 

"  No ;  not  a  sign  of  a  hoof." 

Still  we  looked  for  them.  Still  they  did  not  come. 
Disappointment  was  widespread,  and  grumbling  grew 
loud.  In  addition  to  all  this,  a  rumor  went  over  the 
camp  that  we  .were  soon  to  move.  It  did  not  seem  pos- 
sible that,  in  the  face  of  the  promises  made  to  these 
men,  we  would  be  asked  to  move  without  horses. 

One  afternoon  Fred,  Jake  and  I  were  sitting  smoking 
under  a  tree  on  the  edge  of  the  plateau,  where  we  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  road  leading  from  the  camp 
down  the  slope  into  the  valley,  and  for  a  long  way  up 
the  valley  beside  the  river. 

Jake  had  called  our  attention  to  a  line  of  army  wagons 
on  the  road,  saying  : 

"  Here  comes  the  grub  train." 

For  lack  of  anything  else  to  do,  we  were  watching  it 
drawing  near,  one  wagon  after  another  appearing  from 
behind  the  woods. 


66  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  I  wonder  what  that  means,"  muttered  Jake.  And  I 
looked  closely  to  see  if  there  was  anything  that  had 
escaped  my  attention. 

"  What  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  that  wagon-train.  It  *s  three  times  as  long  as 
usual.  Let 's  go  and  meet  it." 

We  went,  Fred  and  Jake  looking  anxious,  I  thought. 

We  met  the  train  at  the  entrance  to  the  camp  and 
found  Jack  Maddox  on  the  first  wagon. 

"  Well,  boys,  yer  off,  for  sure,"  he  shouted  as  soon  as 
he  caught  sight  of  Fred.  "  This  is  the  last  train  com- 
ing down  here.  I  heard  'em  say  so  in  the  quartermas- 
ter's office  at  Lebanon." 

"  I  suppose  so.  But  where  're  the  horses  ?"  responded 
Fred. 

"  You  haven't  got  them  yet,  have  you  ?  Didn't  I  tell 
you  so  up  in  Lebanon  ?" 

Jake  muttered  an  oath  or  two,  turned  away,  and  I 
followed  him,  leaving  Fred  and  Jack  together. 

"  So  we  are  not  to  have  horses  after  all  ?"  I  said. 

"  I  never  thought  we  would.  But  this  thing  won't  go 
down.  The  boys  11 — well,  you  '11  see  when  they  hear 
it.  They  have  grumbled  a  heap  already,  'cause  they 
thought  they  were  exercising  too  much,  as  if  they  were 
to  be  nothing  but  infantry.  I,  for  one,  don't  propose  to 
stand  it." 

We  were  not  far  from  the  wagons  then,  and  looking 
back  I  saw  that  a  crowd  of  twenty  or  thirty  men  had 
gathered  about  Fred  and  Jack  and  were  gesticulating 
wildly  and  swearing,  and  some  of  their  faces  were  not 
pleasant  to  look  at.  While  we  stood  there  looking  back, 
Peter  Grimes,  a  veteran  of  Company  G — old  Pete,  his 
comrades  called  him — left  the  crowd,  his  face  hardened 
into  a  firm,  determined  scowl,  and  his  short,  iron-gray 
beard  curling  with  anger. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  67 

n  Boys  !"  he  shouted  with  an  oath.     "  I  am  done." 

He  stripped  his  belt,  with  bayonet  sheath  attached, 
from  his  body,  lifted  them  high  above  his  head  and 
threw  them  into  the  road,  where  they  lay  half-buried 
in  the  dust.  He  jerked  off  his  cap  and  threw  it  beside 
them.  Then,  running  his  fingers  through  the  thick 
locks  of  bristling  hair  on  his  head  until  they  stood  on 
end,  and  with  a  curse  that  seemed  to  roll  up  from  his 
very  bowels,  he  cried  : 

"  I  've  just  come  off  guard,  and  by  the  living  God,  if 
they  don't  give  us  horses,  I  '11  never  go  back  again  !" 
and  without  another  word,  or  a  look  to  right  or  left,  he 
strode  away  to  his  tent. 

I  looked  away  from  him  to  the  rest,  and  saw  that 
many  were  preparing  to  follow  his  example,  when — 

"  Boys,  what  's  the  matter  ?"  said  a  quiet  voice  in 
their  midst,  and  at  the  same  instant  Captain  Hartees 
appeared  from  behind  Jack's  wagon. 

Jake  and  I  walked  back  to  see  what  would  come  next. 

"  Where  's  the  horses  we  were  to  have  ?"  growled 
several  who  had  just  been  relieved  from  guard,  and 
stood  with  their  accouterments  on  just  as  they  had 
come  off  duty.  They  did  not  turn  toward  the  captain  ; 
the  hard  lines  in  their  faces  did  not  relax  ;  some  of  them 
even  took  off  their  belts  and  pitched  them  as  deter- 
minedly and  as  resolutely  into  the  dust  as  Grimes  had 
done. 

The  captain  walked  up  to  the  man  who  seemed  most 
determined  and,  pointing  to  the  discarded  belt  in  the 
dust,  said  : 

"  Look  here,  my  man,  pick  that  up  !" 

The  man  looked  up  with  a  derisive  smile  on  his  face, 
but  the  smile  and  the  look  of  derision  faded  under  the 
piercing  gaze  of  the  captain. 

"  I  know  you  are  disappointed,"  said    the  captain  ; 


68  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"so  am  I.  We  have  done  our  best  to  keep  our  promises  ; 
but,  because  we  have  failed,  this  is  no  way  for  you  to 
do.  Pick  that  up  !"  and  the  man,  after  waiting  a  mo- 
ment, obeyed  ;  but  his  face,  though  the  smile  had  van- 
ished, was  as  hard  and  as  grim  as  ever. 

"There  's  yours  and  yours  !"  said  the  captain,  turning 
to  the  other  men  and  pointing  to  the  belts  that  they 
had  thrown  away. 

I  was  relieved  to  see  the  belts  taken  from  the  ground, 
although  the  men  held  them  in  their  hands  without 
making  a  motion  to  fasten  them  about  their  waists. 

"  Whose  is  this  ?"  the  captain  asked,  without  ad- 
dressing any  one  in  particular. 

"Pete's,"  growled  the  first  man  who  had  been 
spoken  to. 

"  You  take  it  to  him  then,"  said  the  captain,  picking 
it  up  ;  "  and  tell  him  from  me  not  to  throw  it  away 
again.  He  will  need  it  by  and  by  ;"  then,  turning  to 
the  crowd  who  were  watching  him  in  gloomy  silence, 
he  said : 

"  Boys,  this  war  is  not  over.  A  great  work  still  re- 
mains to  be  done,  and  it  needs  just  such  men  as  you  to 
do  it.  When  your  time  expired,  you  said  that  you  could 
not  and  would  not  leave  the  work  unfinished.  You  re- 
enlisted  again,  and  I  hope  you  '11  live  in  the  service 
until  the  last  blow  is  struck  and  the  war  is  over. 

"  But  you  did  this  with  the  understanding  that  you 
were  to  have  horses,  you  say.  I  grant  that  horses  were 
promised  to  you,  and  that  they  have  not  come.  But  this 
is  a  greater  disappointment  to  me  than  it  possibly  can 
be  to  you,  for  I  feel  in  part  responsible.  It  was  I,  per- 
haps, who  urged  you  most,  but  it 's  too  early  yet  to  give 
them  up.  I  still  think  the  horses  will  come.  When  we 
go  to  the  front  it  will  probably  be  in  the  cars  from 
Lebanon,  and  we  shall,  without  doubt,  find  our  horses 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  69 

waiting  for  us  at  the  end  of  the  route.  Till  then,  we 
must  be  patient,  and  wait  and  walk.  I  know  what 
walking  is,  and  want  you  to  remember  that  I  ask  no 
man  to  do  what  I  would  not  do,  or  to  go  where  I  would 
not  go.  I  shall  not  send  you  one  inch  nearer  the  enemy 
than  I  go  myself.  Great  deeds  are  still  to  be  done. 
This  regiment  has  done  them  and  will  do  them  again. 
In  the  three  years  of  your  hard-fought  service  you 
proved  yourselves  men.  Don't  shame  your  record  now." 

He  turned,  and  walked  calmly  away ;  but  as  he  passed 
us,  I  saw  that  his  face  was  very  grave,  almost  anxious  ; 
and  when  he  had  gone  on  some  distance  his  hands  met, 
and  clasped  each  other  behind  his  back.  His  pace  be- 
came gradually  slower,  and  his  head  fell  forward  on  his 
chest,  as  if  he  were  oppressed  with  the  weight  of  serious 
thoughts. 

The  men  remained  standing  for  a  few  moments  in 
the  same  positions.  The  three  who  had  thrown  away 
their  accouterments  were  buckling  them  on  again,  but 
they  all  looked  as  morose  and  savage  as  ever.  We  felt 
that  the  storm  had  not  broken  after  all,  but  was  still 
brewing. 

As  the  crowd  separated  Fred  joined  me,  whispering 
as  he  did  so  : 

"  It  is  not  over  yet.     This  is  only  a  beginning." 

'That  night  the  whole  camp  was  gloomy ;  no  songs 
were  heard,  no  laughter.  The  men,  squatting  about 
the  fires,  cooking  their  suppers,  were  silent  and  sullen  ; 
and  when  the  evening  meal  was  finished  and  darkness 
had  fallen,  the  same  feeling  of  uneasiness  was  in  the 
air.  Nothing  was  heard  but  growling  and  grumbling 
on  every  side. 

I  lay  for  a  while  on  the  ground,  listening  to  the  dis- 
contented mutterings  of  my  comrades,  and  wondering 
how  and  when  it  would  all  end.  When  my  pipe  finally 


70  THE      GUN-BEARER. 

went  out  I  put  it  in  my  pocket,  arose  to  my  feet  an<3 
walked  away. 

Fred,  who  had  been  seated  near  me,  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  followed  me,  saying  : 
"  Where  are  you  going,  Dan  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  walk,"  I  replied.  "  I  go  on  guard  at 
eight  o'clock." 

When  he  came  quite  close  to  me  he  said  : 
"  This  looks  bad,  mighty  bad,  and  I  don't  like  it." 
"  Neither  do  I.     But  what's  going  to  be  done.     The 
boys  have  been  used  badly  ;  there's  no  use  denying  it, 
and  somebody  is  to  blame  for  it." 

"There's  one  thing  you  can  count  on,"  said  Fred. 
"  The  boys  are  not  going  to  leave  camp  quietly  without 
horses." 

As  we  walked  we  approached  the  quarters  of  com- 
pany I.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  this  company  had  not 
been  recruited,  there  were  fewer  men  in  it  than  in  ours. 
But  these  men  were  veterans,  who  had  fought  side 
by  side  since  the  regiment  was  mustered  into  service. 
They  were  mostly  from  the  same  section  in  Kentucky, 
all  of  the  same  habits  of  life,  too — all  mountaineers. 

When  we  reached  them  they  were  grouped  around 
one  fire  which,  uncared  for,  was  dying  slowly  away. 

The  red  embers  glowed  without  giving  much  light, 
but  occasional  flashes  of  flame  enabled  us  to  see  the 
scowling  faces  and  iron  frames  of  the  men,  who  seemed 
to  be  gathered  in  council,  some  standing,  some  sitting 
on  the  logs  and  some  lying  flat  on  the  ground,  while 
wreaths  of  pipe-smoke  floated  away  into  the  clear, 
moonless  night. 

They  were  not  given  to  much  talk,  these  silent,  reso- 
lute men,  and  we  stood  for  some  time  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  crowd  before  we  caught  the  drift  of  what  they 
had  been  saying. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  71 

"  They  say  we  're  to  have  'em  bum-by,  when  we  get 
nearer  to  the  front,"  somebody  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  fire  was  saying. 

"It's  a  lie,"  some  one  else  growled.  "Who  believes 
it?" 

"  What  are  we  drillin'  and  drillin'  as  infantry  every 
day  for,  if  we  're  to  have  horses  ?"  said  another.  "  I 
tell  yer,  boys,  it 's  dog-goned  crooked,  an'  we  don't 
stand  it." 

There  came  a  deep  growl  of  assent  from  the  hearers 
assembled. 

Another  spoke,  after  a  pause  : 

"  I  '11  tell  yer  what,  I  'm  in  fer  the  work,  if  they  '11 
use  me  squar',  but  I  '11  be  dogged  if  I  'm  goin'  to  tramp 
another  three  years  and  tote  the  duds  I  have  had  to,  to 
make  me  comfortable  for  the  last  three.  I  'listed  for 
mounted  infantry  and  not  for  '  foot,'  and  if  they  don't 
give  us  horses  I  'm  done." 

The  silence  which  fell  then  was  soon  broken  by 
another  harsh  voice. 

"  Tears  to  me  like  the  only  chance  the  reb's  have  for 
success  is  in  our  government  goin'  back  on  the  soldiers 
that 's  willin'  to  do  the  fightin".  We  're  strong  'nough, 
know  'nough,  and  we  're  brave  'nough,  but  the  men 
that 's  over  us  don't  know  'nough  'nd  they  can't  do  the 
work  as  belongs  to  'em  ter  do.  We  went  through  one 
three  years,  and  'pears  to  me  a  man  's  got  no  right  to 
tell  us  we  're  goin'  to  have  horses  when  he  knows  we 
ain't,  just  to  get  us  to  'list  over  again.  No  Kentucky 
man  would  do  so  mean  a  thing-as  that." 

"  No  Kentucky  man  would  do  it,"  repeated  another 
voice. 

Just  then  the  dying  fire  gave  out  a  flash,  and  look- 
ing toward  the  place  whence  the  last  voice  came,  I 
saw  that  Still  Dick  Vedder  was  the  man  who  had 


72  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

spoken.  He  was  seated  on  a  camp-stool  at  the  back  of 
the  circle,  a  little  apart  from  the  others. 

The  sudden  flash  of  light  appeared  to  startle  him, 
and  as  he  looked  up  I  thought  I  saw  a  murderous  ex- 
pression just  vanishing  from  his  face. 

Vedder  was  known  as  a  strange  man  ;  something 
peculiar  about  him.  He  had  no  chums  ;  did  not  seem 
to  want  any,  and  no  one  cared  to  cross  him  in  anything. 

It  was  told  of  him  that  his  father,  mother  and  his 
wife  and  children  were  shot  by  a  band  of  guerrillas,  or 
driven  into  the  woods  to  die,  and  some  one  said  that  he 
had  sworn  a  fearful  oath  of  vengeance. 

This  accounted  for  his  hatred  of  the  rebels.  There 
were  strange  stories  told  of  his  doings  in  battle.  He 
was  reckless,  brave  to  a  fault,  and  would  fight  as  long- 
as  there  was  any  one  to  fight,  and  had  almost  to  be 
driven  from  the  field.  Last  of  all  it  was  told,  and  often 
repeated,  how,  at  Chicamauga,  he  walked  up  to  a  de- 
fenseless prisoner  and  shot  him  dead.  He  had  recog- 
nized one  of  his  father's  murderers,  it  was  claimed, 
but  the  action  was  brutal.  Such  was  the  man — silent, 
determined,  reckless  ;  not  to  be  turned  aside  when  once 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  an  action. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

It  was  a  night  of  cloudless  beauty  that  closed  this 
most  eventful  and,  as  we  learned  later,  last  day  of  our 
camp  life  at  Point  Burnside. 

When  we  left  the  camp  fire  of  Company  I,  Fred  and 
I  walked  together  as  far  as  the  headquarters  of  the 
guard,  where  we  parted.  Here  I  found  the  corporal 
just  about  to  take  out  the  relief,  so  I  fell  into  place  and 
soon  reached  the  post  where  I  was  left  to  my  duty. 

Alone  with  the  cold  stars  staring  down  from  above 
and  my  thoughts — which  were  not,  on  that  occasion, 
the  most  pleasant  companions — I  tramped  back  and 
forth  from  a  solitary  tree,  which  was  the  boundary  at 
one  end  of  my  beat,  in  a  direct  line  to  a  big  stone  mark- 
ing its  limit  at  the  other  end. 

I  could  think  of  nothing  but  the  disturbed  state  of 
our  camp  and  of  the  air  of  surly  and  defiant  stubborn- 
ness in  the  men  of  Company  I.  But,  however  much 
my  mind  was  occupied  with  a  consideration  of  the  pres- 
ent condition  of  things  and  of  the  causes  which  had 
given  the  boys  occasion  for  grumbling,  I  still  found 
myself  trying  to  reason  out,  to  my  own  satisfaction, 
what  the  result  of  this  disappointment  was  likely  to  be. 
As  may  be  imagined,  there  could  be  one  conclusion 
from  my  point  of  view. 

[73] 


74  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

That  there  would  be  trouble  was  evident  to  all. 
There  was  little  that  these  men  would  not  do  if  the 
proper  leader  was  at  hand  and  had  the  courage  to  step 
to  the  front  at  the  right  time.  Recklessness  certainly 
had  no  limits  to  which  they  would  not  go  if  occasion 
offered. 

Again  and  again  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  we 
were  standing  over  a  volcano,  which  might  burst  forth 
at  any  time  or  place.  And  as  often  as  I  arrived  at 
this  conclusion,  and  its  horrible  results  became  clear  to 
me,  I  would  be  aroused  from  my  meditation,  with  a 
shiver,  to  find  myself  standing  still,  grasping  with  both 
hands  the  stock  of  my  gun,  the  barrel  resting  across  my 
left  arm,  and  my  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground.  It  may 
have  been  the  chill  of  the  dew  that  affected  me,  or  it 
may  have  been  the  feeling  of  dejection  with  which  I 
seem  to  have  been  overcome,  that  was  responsible  for 
these  creeping  chills ;  but  of  one  thing  there  was  no 
longer  a  doubt  in  my  mind — this  matter  was  working 
me  up  to  a  high  state  of  nervous  excitement,  and,  for  a 
soldier,  this  ought  not  to  be. 

As  I  stood  in  the  darkness  and  listened  with  anxious 
ears,  I  would  catch,  now  and  then,  a  vague  murmuring 
sound  from  the  camp,  like  the  moaning  sometimes 
heard  in  a  forest  before  a  storm ;  then  the  bodeful, 
startling  cry  of  some  night-bird  hovering  over  the 
place  would  sound  out  upon  the  quiet  air.  Occasionally 
I  heard  the  slow  and  measured  tread  of  the  sentinel 
whose  beat  adjoined  my  own. 

The  moon  rose  about  eleven  o'clock,  throwing  up  a 
delicate  rosy  haze  at  first,  then  mounted  into  a  green- 
ish silver,  dispelling  the  melancholy  gloom,  and,  as  the 
obscurity  of  the  night  vanished,  I  could  look  about  me, 
out  over  the  vague  unearthly  landscape,  over  the  hills 
and  dales,  and  up  and  down  the  shadowy,  winding 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  75 

river.  Just  then,  also,  a  breeze  sprang  up,  and  the 
dewy  freshness  that  filled  the  air  was  a  thing  for  which 
to  be  grateful. 

By  the  smoldering  camp  fires,  I  still  could  see  indis- 
tinct forms  of  men  ;  few  had  gone  to  their  tents,  though 
it  was  long  after  "  taps."  The  very  air  breathed  sus- 
picious wakefulness.  Occasionally  I  heard  footsteps, 
not  of  my  comrades  of  the  watch,  but  of  some  one 
approaching  from  the  camp  ;  but  those  that  made  the 
noises  either  stopped  short  or  turned  away  before  I 
could  make  out  who  they  were  or  what  they  intended 
doing. 

At  length  a  more  hurried  and  more  decided  foot- 
step startled  me.  It  did  not  turn  aside,  but  came 
straight  on.  My  heart  beat  fast,  and  I  confess  to  a  feel- 
ing of  loneliness,  as  if  every  friend  had  deserted  me. 
Very  distinctly  do  I  remember  also  the  stirring  of  the 
hair  upon  my  head,  an  effect,  I  had  thought  once,  was 
beyond  the  most  extreme  result  of  terror.  A  cold 
sweat  started  from  my  face,  and  my  hands  grew  wet,  as 
if  they  had  been  doused  in  water ;  and  had  I  tried  to 
run  away  I  believe  my  legs  would  have  failed  me.  I 
had  no  time  for  a  cool  decision  between  the  glory  of 
death  at  my  post  of  duty  and  shameful  retreat,  for  the 
footsteps  came  pounding  on.  I  was  scared,  and  would 
have  run,  but  something  beyond  my  power  to  name 
rooted  me  to  the  spot. 

Hastily  summoning  all  the  resolution  at  my  com- 
mand, and  nervously  bringing  my  rifle  to  a  position  of 
defense,  I  cried  with  a  voice  as  loud  as  the  dry  and 
parched  condition  of  my  throat  would  permit : 

"  Halt !     Who  goes  there  ?" 

"  Friend,"  came  the  response,  and  the  dark  form  of  a 
soldier  stepped  from  the  shadow  of  a  tree  into  the 
moonlight,  not  ten  feet  away. 


76  THE    GUN-BEARER. 

*'  Advance,  friend,  and  give  the  countersign,"  I  said, 
in  as  steady  and  stern  a  voice  as  I  could  command. 

"  I  haven't  any  countersign  but  horses.  That 's  what 's 
the  matter  with  me,  'nd  I  'd  as  lief  be  sent  to  the  guard 
house  for  it  as  not,"  the  man  said,  as  he  came  to  a  stop 
not  two  paces  from  the  point  of  my  bayonet. 

"Well,"  I  replied,  gaining  confidence  in  myself  as  the 
knowledge  that  I  was  master  of  the  situation  dawned 
upon  me,  "  I  don't  propose  to  send  you  to  the  guard- 
house ;  only  don't  try  to  cross  the  line  here." 

The  man  moved  away,  and  I  resumed  my  walk  with 
a  sigh  of  relief. 

For  a  time  everything  was  quiet.  I  saw  nothing  new 
— heard  nothing  strange.  The  soldiers  lounging  about 
the  camp  fires  left  one  by  one,  until  all  had  disappeared. 
The  neglected  fires  were  fast  dying  out,  and  I  was  just 
calculating  that  my  time  for  duty  was  about  up,  and 
that  I  would  soon  be  relieved  and  asleep,  when  I  saw 
something  moving  among  the  headquarter  tents. 

Soon  the  black  shadow  of  a  man  on  horseback  left 
the  camp  and  approached  the  line  of  guards  across  the 
wagon  road.  It  halted  at  command,  approached  the 
sentry,  gave  the  countersign,  probably  though  I  was 
too  far  away  to  hear  it,  and  was  allowed  to  pass.  Then 
I  heard,  indistinctly,  the  hoof  beats  of  a  galloping  horse. 

I  wondered  what  it  all  meant,  and  watched  the  rider 
in  his  course  down  the  road  to  the  valley,  and  up  along 
the  river  bank ;  saw  him  pass  into  the  shadow  of  the 
woods  ;  watched  for  him  where  I  knew  he  must  reap- 
pear in  the  moonlight,  and  so  on,  until  he  finally 
disappeared  behind  the  woods  of  the  valley.  I  turned 
away,  for  I  knew  I  should  see  him  no  more. 

A  few  moments  later  I  again  heard  footsteps  ;  this 
time  coming  toward  the  camp  from  outside  the  line. 
This  was  the  first  time  I  had  heard  any  sound  outside 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  77 

our  lines,  and  thoughts  of  an  enemy  at  once  presented 
themselves,  only  to  be  dispelled  by  the  thought  that  we 
were  much  too  far  north  for  that.  Strange  to  say,  I 
was  not  nearly  so  scared  as  on  the  former  occasion. 

A  steady  look  in  the  direction  of  the  new-comer  soon 
revealed  our  orderly  sergeant,  walking  leisurely  and 
unconcernedly  toward  me. 

"  Halt !"  I  said,  when  the  sergeant  had  approached 
to  within  a  few  paces  of  me. 

"  Hello,  Dan  !"  was  the  response.     "  Is  that  you  ?" 

I  was  somewhat  surprised— rather  pleasantly  than 
otherwise — at  the  first  non-commissioned  officer  in  the 
company  addressing  me  thus  familiarly,  so  I  replied  in 
a  voice  full  of  confidence  in  myself  : 

"Yes,  it  is  I  !" 

"  Has  there  been  any  passing  the  lines  to-night  .»"' 

"  Not  on  this  beat." 

"  Heard  anything  or  seen  any  of  the  officers  of  the 
other  companies  ?" 

"  No.     They  haven't  been  this  way  !" 

"  Well,  there  's  lot  of  'em  out,  and  they  '11  be  along 
soon  !  We  Ve  been  out  since  sundown,  and  there  isn't 
a  blessed  one  of  us  has  the  countersign.  Lucky  for  me 
I  happened  to  strike  your  post  instead  of  that  of  some 
of  the  men  who  came  day  before  yesterday ;  for  you 
happen  to  know  who  I  am,  and  that  makes  it  all  right." 

"  Certainly  !"  I  replied,  repeating  the  last  words  of 
his  remark.  "  That  makes  it  all  right." 

"  By  the  way,  Dan,"  said  the  sergeant,  pausing  in 
front  of  me  as  he  crossed  the  line  ;  "  I  notice  there  's 
one  thing  you  have  either  forgotten  or  have  never  been 
taught.  Let  me  show  you  how  to  hold  your  gun  when 
you  challenge  an  officer." 

This  was  a  new  idea  to  me,  and  supposing  there 
might  be  something  that  I  had  not  learned  in  the  line 


78  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

of  respect  due  an  officer  from  a  sentinel  on  duty,  I 
handed  my  gun  to  the  sergeant. 

"  Now,  sir  !"  said  the  sergeant,  sternly,  bringing  the 
gun  to  a  charge  and  pressing  the  point  of  the  bayonet  so 
hard  and  close  to  my  breast  that  I  was  compelled,  in 
order  to  prevent  injury,  to  step  back — back — back. 
"  Now,  sir,  supposing  I  was  a  stranger  and  an  enemy, 
who  had  wheedled  you  in  giving  up  your  gun.  Where 
would  you  be  ?  I  could  easily  lay  you  out,  eh  ?" 

This  was  a  fact,  and  I  had  to  admit  it. 

"  I  have  purposely  done  this  to  teach  you  a  lesson. 
Always  remember,  when  you  are  on  duty,  that  until 
you  get  the  countersign,  there  is  no  more  respect  due 
from  you  to  your  superior  officer  than  there  is  to  a 
private.  You  are  not  supposed  to  know  any  one.  What 
you  want,  and  all  you  want  is  the  countersign  ;  and 
that  in  every  case  you  must  have  before  you  let  any  one 
pass.  Another  thing ;  don't  let  any  one — not  even  a 
general — take  your  gun  away  from  you  again.  Never 
let  it  go  out  of  your  hands.  The  safety  of  the  army 
depends  upon  the  faithfulness  of  those  detailed  to  watch 
while  others  sleep.  Never  forget  this.  An  unarmed 
soldier  on  guard  is  as  useless  as  a  cat  without  claws  in  a 
fight.  Here,  take  your  gun,  hang  on  to  it,  and  don't 
give  yourself  away  to  your  comrades  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. The  countersign  is  '  Sherman.'  "  Saying  which 
the  sergeant  left  me  and  walked  toward  the  camp. 

I  was  somewhat  humiliated  by  this  experience,  for 
the  necessity  of  being  vigilant  and  alert  was  already 
known  to  me.  It  had  been  impressed  upon  my  mind 
before  we  went  on  guard  ;  but  it  occurred  to  me  that 
this  was  an  emergency,  an  affair  where  circumstances 
seemed  to  alter  cases — one  demanding  the  exercise  of 
sound  judgment.  I  saw  now  that  I  was  wrong,  and  was 
ashamed  I  had  been  so  easily  caught.  The  only  bit  of 


THE     GUN-BEARER. 


79 


consolation  left  me  was  in  the  warning,  "  Not  to  give 
myself  away."  It  was  evident  my  instructor  was  one 
who  considered  only  the  importance  of  my  efficiency  as 
a  soldier. 

Shortly  after  this  I  heard  a  commotion  along  the 
guard  line,  and  by  the  heavy  tramp  of  feet  knew  that 
my  neighbor  had  been  relieved  and  that  it  was  my  turn 
next, 


CHAPTER   VII. 

When  I  awoke  the  next  morning  Fred  was  already 
outside,  talking  with  Bence  and  Kimball,  who  occupied 
the  next  tent.  Kimball  was  saying  : 

"  The^  won't  dare  to  order  us  off  after  what  hap- 
pened yesterday.  They  know  mighty  well  we  won't 
leave  here  if  we  don't  get  them." 

It  was  plain  to  me  that  horses  formed  the  subject  of 
their  conversation,  and  that,  with  the  rising  sun,  this 
one  absorbing  topic  for  discussion  was  returned  to  with 
as  much  passion  as  ever. 

"  And  I  tell  you  they  will-  order  us  out,"  drawled 
Jake,  "  and  they  won't  make  any  bones  of  it,  either. 
The  men  who  left  last  night  knew  what  they  were 
about."  Then,  after  a  moment  of  pause,  he  added  im- 
patiently :  "  I  was  a  fool  that  I  didn't  go,  too." 

"  Has  anybody  gone  ?"  I  asked,  sticking  my  head  out 
of  the  tent,  and  feeling,  at  the  same  time,  that  I  could 
account  for  one  absent  one  if  I  would. 

"  I  reckon  there  has,"  responded  Jake,  with  a  flourish 
of  the  pipe-stem  he  had  been  cleaning.  "  Company  D 
lost  two,  three  gone  from  Company  I,  and  when  roll-call 
is  over  you  "11  find  a  heap  more  missing." 

And  sure  enough,  when  the  roll  was  called,  at  the 
[80] 


HE  LKVKLKD  HIS  MUSKET  AT  THE  CAPTAIN'S  BREAST.— Ste  1'O.ge  SO. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  81 

name  of  Hiram  Haines  no  voice  answered  ;  and  so, 
later  on,  there  was  no  response  to  the  name  of  Henry 
Roberts. 

The  call  over,  we  began  to  cook  breakfast.  All  the 
time  the  conversation  moved  upon  only  one  subject — 
horses,  and  the  trouble  sure  to  come  if  we  were  ordered 
to  leave  without  them. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do  ?"  Fred  asked. 

"  Do  !"  sneered  Jake,  with  his  arms  squared  firmly  on 
his  breast,  the  rugged  wrist  of  one  hand  showing  out 
past  the  dark,  half-concealed  knuckles  of  the  other. 
"  Do  !  I  don't  want  to  be  the  man  to  give  the  order  to 
leave  this  place." 

"  You  wouldn't  mutiny,  would  you  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Couldn't  say  what  a  lot  of  men  that  have  been  im- 
posed on  would  do,"  replied  Bence,  with  a  challenging 
glance  toward  headquarters.  "  We  're  no  fools,  nor 
cowards  either,  and  they  '11  find  it  out." 

Immediately  after  breakfast  we  were  ordered  to 
strike  tents,  to  roll  up  our  blankets,  and  get  ready  to 
move. 

"  That  settles  it,"  said  Taylor.  "  There  're  no  if  s  about 
that." 

"  Didn't  I  tell  yer,"  muttered  Jake,  and  both  men, 
from  very  force  of  habit,  started  to  obey  the  order, 
although  they  first  looked  around  expectantly,  to  see 
if  any  opposition  was  made.  All  over  the  camp  men 
were  executing  the  command ;  but  slowly,  as  though 
they  were  doing  it  under  protest. 

Shortly  after  this  we  were  marched  by  companies  to 
the  supply  wagons,  where  three  days'  rations  were 
issued  to  us.  Then  forty  rounds  of  ammunition  were 
distributed.  This  filled  our  cartridge  boxes  and  left  a 
handsome  balance  to  stow  away  in  our  haversacks  with 
the  rations. 


82  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

Men  were  gathering  in  little  groups,  and  in  some 
instances  exhibiting  considerable  feeling ;  still,  there 
was  no  alarming  disturbance.  I  was  all  keyed  up  with 
suppressed  excitement.  What  could  it  mean  ?  All  the 
talk  and  bluster  of  the  day  before  must  have  meant 
something  ;  and  that  it  did,  indeed,  mean  something,  I 
saw  too  plainly,  as  I  glanced  at  the  faces  of  the  veterans 
about  us. 

There  is  a  point  where  surly,  dissatisfied  obedience 
ends,  and  mutiny — defiant,  reckless  and  often  deadly 
mutiny — begins  ;  and  this  crisis  in  our  affairs  was  fast 
approaching. 

At  last  the  tents  were  all  struck,  divided  and  rolled 
up  with  the  blankets.  Every  one  had  decided  how 
many  of  the  little  things  that  had  been  collected  he 
would  want  to  carry  in  his  load,  and  how  many  must  be 
left  behind. 

When  my  accouterments  were  all  on,  my  load,  per- 
haps a  fair  sample  of  the  others,  was  as  follows  : 
A  haversack  hung  by  a  strap  from  my  right  shoulder 
across  my  body  to  my  left  side,  and  in  it  were  knife, 
fork,  spoon,  plate  and  enough  pork,  hard  bread,  coffee 
and  sugar  for  three  days.  In  my  knapsack,  strapped  to 
my  back,  were  writing  paper,  pins,  pens,  pipe  and 
tobacco,  ink,  soap,  towels,  underclothing,  stockings,  etc., 
etc.  Hung  over  my  left  shoulder  was  a  canteen  full  of 
water  ;  also  over  the  same  shoulder  hung  my  blankets 
and  tent,  rolled  up  tightly  into  a  horse-collar  shape, 
and  tied  at  the  ends.  From  my  belt  hung  a  dipper, 
a  cartridge-box,  which  was  heavy  with  ammunition, 
and  over  my  left  hip  a  bayonet  in  its  sheath.  This, 
with  my  gun,  made  load  enough  for  one  man  to  carry. 

All  that  was  now  left  for  us  to  do  was  to  kill  time  by 
talking,  smoking  and  lounging  around,  waiting  for 
orders.  This  is  an  experience  which  enters  largely  into 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  83 

every  soldier's  career,  and,  already  familiar  with  many 
of  the  possibilities  in  this  direction,  I  had  seated  myself 
and  was  smoking  my  pipe  and  dreaming  of  home  when, 
unexpectedly,  one  of  the  teamsters  arrived  from  Lebanon 
with  the  mail. 

Thoroughly  aroused  by  the  chances  of  that  mail- 
pouch  containing  a  letter  for  me,  I  arose  and,  with 
others,  followed  the  mail-carrier  to  headquarters,  where 
the  letters  and  papers  were  distributed. 

There  were  two  letters  for  me — one  from  mother, 
which  was  opened  first  and  read  where  I  stood.  The 
other  letter  I  knew,  by  the  writing  on  the  envelope, 
was  from  Mary.  It  did  not  take  me  long  to  find  a  place 
where  it  could  be  absorbed  without  disturbance. 

Again  and  again  I  read  it,  until  every  word  seemed 
to  me  a  text  from  which  a  sermon  on  the  loveliness  of 
woman  might  be  preached.  I  was  assured  that  the 
house  was  now  very  lonely  without  me.  That  my  room 
remained  just  as  I  had  left  it,  and  that  nothing  in  it 
should  be  disturbed  until  I  returned.  That  every  even- 
ing, when  it  was  pleasant,  she  had  been  to  walk  along 
the  same  road  and  by  the  paths  which  we  had  so  often 
walked  together,  and  that  every  step  she  took,  every 
foot  of  ground  passed  over,  reminded  her  of  some 
word  or  look  from  me,  which  she  had  jealously  hoarded 
in  the  treasure-house  of  her  heart.  She  would  wait 
and  hope  and  pray  for  my  safe  return. 

By  the  time  I  had  fully  digested  the  contents  of  my 
two  letters  and  returned  to  the  company,  the  incident 
of  the  unlooked-for  mail  had  apparently  been  forgotten, 
and  horses  again  formed  the  topic  for  discussion. 

About  ten  o'clock  we  had  left  the  camp  ground  and 
were  standing  by  companies  in  a  line  on  the  road  at  the 
foot  of  the  slope  facing  the  hill. 

"  Where  's  the  colonel  ?"  Fred  asked. 


84  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  He  left  last  night,  so  the  boys  say,"  muttered  Kim- 
b^all,  abstractedly. 

"  Yes,  and  I  saw  him  leave ;  he  went  about  midnight," 
said  I,  for  the  rider  of  the  horse  which  I  had  seen  gal- 
loping away  last  night  could  have  been  none  other  than    , 
the  colonel. 

"  He  did  well,"  said  Jake,  harshly. 

"  Who  '11  command  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Hartees,  I  reckon  ;  he  's  the  senior  captain.  Yes, 
there  he  is  now  !" 

I  looked  in  the  direction  Jake  indicated  and  saw  the 
captain  standing  in  front  of  the  center  of  the  line, 
leaning  against  his  sword,  the  point  of  which  was  rest- 
ing on  a  stone  behind  him. 

He  was  waiting  until  we  should  be  joined  by  the  last 
of  the  purposely  straggling  squads  which  kept  coming 
in  sight  on  the  brow  of  the  hill. 

At  last,  a  party  of  three  or  four  came  down,  followed 
by  a  lieutenant  of  one  of  the  companies.  The  men 
took  their  places  in  line,  and  the  officer  reported  that 
the  camp  ground  was  clear. 

Then  the  command  was  passed  from  company  to 
company  : 

"  Right  face  !     Forward  !     March  !" 

Away  off  to  the  right  of  the  line  the  drums  began 
to  beat  and  mechanically  we  obeyed  the  order. 

Without  the  buoyant  feelings  and  the  excitement 
that  change  is  wont  to  bring,  for  even  the  drums  seemed 
to  be  affected  by  our  discontent,  and  without  other 
noise,  except  the  scuff  of  feet  in  the  dust  and  a  mut- 
tered oath  now  and  then  in  grim,  determined  silence, 
we  began  our  march. 

But  the  complaints  of  Company  I,  which  was  directly 
in  front,  kept  coming  over  to  us,  keeping  my  comrades 
in  a  chronic  state  of  discontent.  They  had  come  into 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  85 

possession  of  some  liquor  somehow,  possibly  from  the 
sutler,  for  he  was  a  sympathizer  in  our  troubles,  and 
that  also  added  vehemence  to  their  grumblings. 

I  think  we  would  have  gone  along  quietly  enough  if 
left  alone.  Jake  Bence  was  the  most  mutinous  in  our 
company,  and  his  growling  was  without  effect,  for  he 
was  always  at  it  ;  but  listening  to  the  grumbling  in 
Company  I,  which  was  every  moment  becoming  louder 
and  more  excited,  we  were  rapidly  being  wrought  up 
to  about  the  same  state  of  mutiny. 

Besides,  the  sergeant  of  Company  I  was  chiming  in 
with  the  men,  and  was  as  mutinous  as  any  one.  It 
seemed  to  me,  though,  it  was  his  duty  to  encourage  a 
cheerful  obedience  of  orders  rather  than  to  discour- 
age it. 

Right  in  the  midst  of  it,  happening  to  look  up,  I  saw 
the  captain  standing  on  an  embankment  beside  the 
road  watching  the  regiment,  as  company  after  company 
marched  past  him. 

No  man's  actions  or  bearing  escaped  him  as  the  lines 
marched  by ;  and  although  he  seemed  at  ease,  on  his 
face  I  plainly  saw  the  same  expression  of  anxiety  that 
I  noticed  there  the  day  before. 

Every  muscle  in  his  body  was  strung  up  to  its  high- 
est tension.  His  face  was  paler  than  usual  under  its 
coat  of  tan,  and  his  eyes  and  hair  never  seem  so  black. 
He  saw  clearly  in  what  a  demoralized  condition  his 
command  was,  and  knowing  that  something  must  be 
done  to  improve  it,  was  watching  for  the  proper  time 
and  place  for  action.  Nor  did  he  have  long  to  wait, 
for  the  steady  marching  brought  Company  I,  with  its 
mutinous  sergeant,  directly  in  front  of  him. 

The  company  was  making  its  way  along  the  road 
with  a  shambling,  devil-may-care  gait  for  the  most  part, 
and  growling  as  they  went. 


86  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

The  sergeant  had  not  seen  the  captain,  probably,  for 
he  was  saying : 

"  To  be  cheated  and  gulled  into  re-enlistment,  as  we 
have  been,  and  then  to  expect  us  to  quietly  give  in  like 
a  lot  of  whipped  dogs  !  I  tell  you,  boys,  I  'm  not  going 
through  this  sort  of  thing  for  another  three  years." 

"  There  it  goes,"  said  I  to  Fred  ;  "  somebody  will 
catch  it  now." 

I  had  hardly  spoken  when  the  captain,  with  two  steps, 
stood  beside  the  orderly. 

"  Give  me  your  sword,"  he  commanded  sharply,  at 
the  same  moment  snatching  it  from  the  sergeant's 
hands.  "  You  are  under  arrest ;  go  to  the  rear." 

The  action  was  so  unexpected  that  the  sergeant, 
dumfounded,  shrank  back,  and  for  a  moment  looked 
at  the  captain  irresolutely ;  then,  turning  to  the  men, 
ran  his  eyes  quickly  over  their  faces,  as  though  seeking 
some  sign  of  encouragement. 

The  whole  regiment  had  been  watching  the  motions 
of  the  captain,  and,  simultaneously  with  the  arrest  of 
the  sergeant,  moved  by  a  common  impulse,  broke  from 
the  order  of  march,  fell  back,  and  gathered  in  a  circle 
around  this  center  of  interest. 

In  that  center  stood  the  captain,  with  his  black  eyes 
flashing  lightning  as  he  swept  the  circle  of  faces,  watch- 
ing for  the  first  sign  of  what  was  to  come  next.  He 
was  playing  for  his  life,  and  he  knew  it.  He  was  one 
man  at  bay,  and  encircled  by  a  regiment — six  hundred 
angry,  desperate,  reckless  men.  It  was  a  moment  to 
try  the  stoutest  heart. 

As  I  followed  the  captain's  angry  glances  around  the 
circle  of  faces,  noting  the  well-conveyed  indifference 
to  his  peril,  the  extraordinary  actions  of  Still  Dick 
caught  my  eye.  He  was  leveling  his  musket  over  the 
shoulder  of  his  file  leader,  and  had  lowered  his  head  to 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  87 

take  sight  at  the  captain's  breast,  not  a  dozen  feet  away 
from  the  muzzle  of  his  gun. 

Dick  was  as  cool  as  ice.  His  wooden  face  was  as 
vacant  of  expression  as  if  he  were  about  to  fire  at  a 
target ;  his  eyes  alone  revealed,  in  their  cold,  glittering, 
cruel  glance,  something  of  what  was  passing  in  his 
mind. 

The  two  men  immediately  in  front  of  Vedder,  when 
they  saw  the  gun  barrel  appear  between  them,  stepped 
quickly  to  one  side,  leaving  the  captain  thus  face  to 
face  with  his  silent  enemy,  the  most  dangerous  and 
deadly-sure  man  among  us,  who  held  a  loaded  musket 
at  his  breast,  making  preparations  to  fire. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  silence,  broken  only  by  the 
"  click,"  "  click,"  as  Vedder  pulled  back  the  hammer  of 
his  gun,  could  be  felt ;  and,  while  the  crowd  behind 
the  captain  separated  to  the  right  and  left  to  be  out  of 
the  way,  the  rest  of  us,  paralyzed  by  this  deliberate 
murderous  intention,  stood  spellbound,  and  watched 
every  motion  with  strained  eyes,  expecting  to  see  the 
fire  leap  out,  and  our  captain  fall  bleeding  and  dying 
in  the  road. 

Yet  Vedder  did  not  fire,  and  those  moments  of  hesi- 
tation seemed  to  our  torturing  suspense  expanded  into 
hours  of  waiting.  The  man's  face  was  changing,  too  ; 
taking  on  an  ashy  pallor  and  becoming  expressive,  first 
a  black,  determined  scowl  and  tightening  of  the  lips, 
then  a  nervous  twitching  of  the  features  and  the  gun 
barrel  began  to  waver. 

Quicker  than  thought — so  quick,  in  fact  that  none  of 
us  really  saw  it — the  captain's  sword  flashed  up  beneath 
the  gun-barrel,  struck  it  a  ringing  blow,  and  the  mus- 
ket, knocked  from  Vedder's  nerveless  fingers,  exploded 
harmlessly  above  our  heads.  And,  in  dumb,  motionless 
astonishment,  we  stood  staring  at  the  two  men  until 


88  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

the  captain,  pointing  with  his  sword  tip  the  road, 
cried  : 

"  Now,  men,  to  business  !     Fall  in  !"  * 

The  hard  faces  relaxed,  the  trouble  was  over.  A  sigh 
of  relief  parted  the  lips  of  all ;  and,  as  we  fell  into  line, 
some  one  iri  Company  I  waved  his  cap  in  the  air  and 
called  for  "  Three  cheers  for  our  captain  !"  in  a  loud, 
clear  voice.  They  were  given  with  a  will,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  all  the  reckless  desperation  vanished  in  them,  giv- 
ing volume  and  power  as  it  went  out  of  the  hearts  of 
men  into  harmless  sound,  ju.°*.  as  a  heap  of  powder 
touched  off  in  the  open  air  bursts  forth  into  harmless 
flame  and  clouds  of  smoke. 

"  Forward  !     March  !" 

Was  it  because  we  were  in  fear  that  we  now  so  cheer- 
fully obeyed  this  command  ?  Did  we  repent  our  mutinous 
attitude  when  we  saw  our  captain  standing  before  the 
muzzle  of  Vedder's  gun  ?  Wer^  we  ready  now  to  give 
over  our  grumbling  and  go  in  peace,  because  the  officer 
in  command  had  so  ordered  ?  Were  we  fickle  ?  Were 
all  the  grumbling  and  threats  so  freely  indulged  in  the 
day  before  all  idle  bluster  ?  With  me  it  might  have 
been  so,  but  with  the  others  it  was  not.  A  thousand 
times,  no  ! 

In  that  moment,  when  our  captain  faced  Vedder,  if 
he  had  betrayed  the  slightest  movement  of  a  muscle,  if 
his  eye  had  wavered  from  Vedder's  by  a  hair's  breadth, 


*  I  often  pause  to  wonder  over  this  incident  in  our  history.  Why  did 
not  Vedder  flre  1  What  power  rested  in  the  eye  or  will  of  our  captain  to 
turn  that  man  of  all  others  from  his  purpose?  What  did  the  expressions 
of  Vedder's  face  mean,  if  they  were  not  the  outward  signs  of  the  struggle 
in  his  mind?  The  determined  scowl  and  tightening  of  the  lips  signifying 
that  his  resolution  was  wavering,  and  he  was  trying  to  force  it  to  stand 
firm. 

His  mental  strain  must  have  been  terrible ;  but,  though  careless  and 
reckless  of  all  consequences  to  do  this  one  deed  in  the  way  it  had  to  be 
done,  he  had  not  the  nerve. 

The  captain  did  not  stain  his  victory  with  any  harsh  measures,  and 
Vedder,  thoroughly  cowed  and  trembling  like  one  stricken  in  years,  was 
allowed  to  tramp  on  with  rest. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  89 

he  would  have  fallen  at  our  feet  with  a  bullet  in  his 
heart,  and  a  little  later  six  hundred  veteran  soldiers 
would  have  been  tramping  away  from  that  place,  in  per- 
haps as  many  directions,  going  back  to  their  homes. 

It  was  the  man  who  could  look  death  in  the  face 
without  flinching,  that  had  caused  this  revulsion  of 
feeling,  had  excited  the  admiration  of  his  fellows,  and 
had  conquered.  Among  soldiers,  it  is  not  the  face  nor 
the  form,  nor  anything  else,  that  is  admired  except  the 
will,  the  indomitable  will  that  knows  no  fear.  What- 
ever sort  of  man  our  captain  might  turn  out  to  be,  he 
was  at  least  a  brave  one. 

All  day  long,  up  hill  and  down,  through  mud  and 
dust,  in  broiling  sun  and  cooling  shade,  we  tramped. 
Though  the  shoulder-straps  of  our  accouterments  were 
cutting  into  the  flesh,  though  our  feet  were  blistered, 
still  we  did  not  complain. 

.  At  last,  almost  at  night,  we  came  into  a  quiet  valley 
with  pleasant  fields  beside  the  road,  and  fence  rails  for 
fire  wood. 

"Halt!"  came  the  command  from  the  head  of  the 
column. 

Here  we  were  to  camp,  and  we  knew  it ;  a  tired  but 
unanimous  cheer  waked  the  echoes  of  the  valley. 

In  a  trice  our  guns  were  stacked  ;  the  load  was  off 
our  backs ;  fires  were  built  and  supper  cooked.  We 
were  contented — almost  happy  ;  for  we  were  at  rest. 

The  power  of  one  man  ;  that  power  which  had  para- 
lyzed Still  Dick's  finger  on  the  trigger  of  the  gun 
aimed  full  at  his  breast  ;  which  had  quelled  the  mutiny 
and  kept  us  wearily  but  willingly  plodding  on  through 
dust  and  heat,  all  that  livelong,  tedious  day,  was  over 
us  still :  and  when',  at  night,  we  gathered  about  the 
cheerful  camp-fires,  with  our  pipes  well  filled,  we  came 
to  talk  of  that  never-to-be-forgotten  scene,  as  we  re- 


90  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

called  the  heroism  of  the  captain  and  in  our  minds'  eye 
saw  him  again  standing  unflinchingly  before  the  muz- 
zle of  Vedder's  rifle,  horses  were  forgotten,  and  our 
weariness  lost  sight  of. 

Would  there  be  any  more  trouble,  any  more  attempt 
at  mutiny  ? 

Never.  The  captain  had  conquered  the  whole  regi- 
ment— made  us  as  one  man.  There  was  not  one  among 
us  who  would  not  have  faced  a  battalion  at  his  com- 
mand. 

Did  we  talk  of  horses  ? 

They  might  have  been  mentioned,  but  they  were  not 
considered  of  so  much  importance  now.  The  captain 
had  tried  to  get  them,  we  said.  The  colonel  was  the 
most  to  blame.  He  had  fled,  leaving  another  to  take 
his  place  and  front  his  danger. 

The  veterans  were  loud  in  the  captain's  praise  and 
promised  themselves  that  their  old  achievements  would 
be  as  nothing  compared  with  the  glory  they  would  win 
under  such  a  leader. 

The  sentinels  pacing  the  watch  that  night  looked  on 
a  different  scene  from  the  one  I  saw  the  night  before. 
They  saw  no  restless  excited  forms  about  the  dying 
fires,  heard  no  footsteps  save  their  own. 

Our  regiment  had,  indeed,  settled  down  to  business. 
We  were  on  a  war  footing.  One  man  had  controlled 
and  united  us  into  one  huge  machine,  obedient  to  his 
will. 

We  slept  soundly,  undisturbed  by  dreams  of  home  or 
friends  or  battles  ;  only  for  an  instant,  as  I  slept,  Mary 
seemed  to  be  standing  before  me,  and  her  eyes  were 
sad  with  tears.  I  seemed  to  be  saying :  "  Now  I  am  off 
to  the  war";  and  she  vanished. 

We  awoke,  footsore  but  refreshed.  But  we  must "  up 
stakes  "  and  be  off. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  91 

The  distance  travelled  that  day,  however,  was  not 
nearly  so  great  as  that  of  the  day  before,  but  at  night 
there  was  hardly  one  in  the  regiment  who  had  not  a 
blister  to  remind  him  of  the  two  days'  tramp  ;  and  then 
we  saw  something  of  the  spice  and  wit  that  flow  so 
easily  about  the  campfires  of  soldiers  on  the  march. 

At  Point  Burnside  our  life  had  been  like  a  picnic,  in 
a  way.  We  had  a  few  hours  of  drill  and  duty,  it  is 
true,  but  there  was  no  danger  and  no  changing  scene. 
We  had  collected,  besides,  little  conveniences — bits  of 
comfort,  as  it  were — but  these  were  now  left  behind, 
and  I  was  surprised  to  see  how  easily  we  got  along 
without  them.  The  days  then  were  all  alike,  but  now 
no  one  could  tell  what  the  next  hour  would  bring 
forth. 

For  several  days  we  marched  from  place  to  place, 
but  no  day's  journey  was  as  long  as  the  first ;  resting- 
places  were  more  frequent,  and  the  hours  of  camp  more 
pleasant.  Everybody  seemed  in  excellent  spirits.  We 
were  well,  though  simply,  fed.  Our  blisters  were  dis- 
appearing, and  our  load  was  getting  lighter. 

We  were  marching  in  a  northward  direction  through 
Somerset,  Waynesburg,  Stanford,  Danville ;  thence 
across  to  Lebanon,  where  we  were  put  into  cars  and 
landed  at  Louisville. 

Here,  many  were  mustered  in,  and  after  a  few  days 
we  were  cooped  up  in  box-cars  on  the  road  to  the 
front. 

Travelling  in  box-cars  is  not  the  most  comfortable 
way  of  going  from  place  to  place,  but  we  enjoyed  it 
nevertheless. 

Many  were  the  little  devices  we  made  up  to  make  our 
quarters  comfortable. 

By  forage  we  collected  hay  and  straw  enough  to 
cover  the  floor  of  our  cars,  and  on  this  we  lay  and 


92  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

dozed,  or  listened  to  such  parts  of  the  stories  that  were 
told  as  the  rattle  of  the  train  permitted  us  to 
hear. 

We  were  hastening  toward  the  front,  covering  a  great 
deal  of  ground  without  marching,  and  without  having, 
as  Jake  said,  "to  take  our  accouterments;"  and  for  all 
this  we  were  thankful. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

After  we  had  travelled  thus  by  rail  for  two  days  or 
more,  I  awoke  one  morning  to  the  consciousness  that 
something  must  be  wrong. 

I  had  an  idea  that  we  should  be  rattling  and  slam- 
*  ming  over  the  road  as  usual,  but,  on  the  contrary,  the 
train  was  now  stopped,  and  the  clatter  I  had  gone  to 
sleep  by  having  ceased,  the  silence  of  death  seemed  to 
have  taken  its  place.  As  I  lay,  for  some  moments,  on 
my  bed  of  hay,  drowsily  pondering  the  situation,  I  be- 
came more  and  more  aware  of  the  fact  that  most  of  my 
comrades  in  the  car  had  disappeared,  and  that  the  few 
whom  I  still  could  see  standing  at  the  door  between  me 
and  the  bright  sunlight  were  talking  together  and 
pointing  in  various  directions. 

Raising  myself  upon  one  elbow,  my  eyes  first  fell 
upon  a  broad  river  sweeping  by.  There  was  no  breeze 
to  ruffle  its  surface  ;  no  merrily  dancing  sunlit  waves  , 
nothing  but  a  darkly  flowing  stream,  smooth  as  a  pol- 
ished floor,  sustaining  a  reflection  of  the  opposite  shore 
on  one  side,  and  on  the  side  nearest  me  a  few  wavering 
creases  of  the  surface  marking  the  whirling  eddies 
underneath. 

[93  1 


94  THE   GUN-BEARER. 

Beyond  the  stream  I  saw  the  outcropping  rocks  and 
heavily-wooded  hills  of  a  very  broken  and  moun- 
tainous country.  Taking  the  whole  scene  together, 
it  made  an  impression  upon  me  that  I  shall  not 
soon  forget.  Whether  due  to  the  wild  and  rugged 
character  of  the  hills  and  mountains,  standing  out  so 
bold  and  striking  in  the  clear,  strong  light  of  the  morn- 
ing, or  to  the  resistless  rush  of  the  river,  which  I  in- 
stinctively felt  rather  than  saw,  or  to  the  unwonted 
stillness  into  which  I  had  been  so  unconsciously  and 
suddenly  plunged,  or  to  a  mingling  of  all  thes*  effects, 
I  cannot  say ;  but  whatever  it  was,  some  time  passed 
before  I  could  make  up  my  mind  whether  I  was  really 
awake  or  dreaming. 

"  What  river  is  that  ?"  I  asked,  throwing  off  my  blan- 
ket and  coming  to  my  senses,  at  least  sufficiently  to  ask 
questions. 

At  the  sound  of  my  voice  two  comrades  by  the  car 
door  turned  around,  and  at  the  same  time  the  heads  of 
several  others  appeared  from  the  outside.  What  a  shout 
greeted  me  as  they  heard  my  voice,  and  what  unflatter- 
ing remarks  were  bestowed  upon  me ! 

"  Oh,  you  're  awake,  are  you  ?"  said  one. 

"  If  you  are  as  much  of  a  fighter  as  you  are  a  sleeper 
you  will  be  a  corporal  before  you  know  it,"  said  an- 
other. 

"  You  11  wake  up  some  fine  morning  to  find  out  that 
we  have  wound  up  this  war  business  and  gone  home," 
contimied  a  third. 

By  this  time  my  connection  with  the  regiment  had 
taught  me  to  take  such  shots  at  my  greenness  in  the 
right  spirit,  and  to  give,  now  and  then,  a  volley  in  reply. 
Begging  them  not  to  let  such  tender  solicitude  for  me 
disturb  their  sweet  repose,  I  repeated  my  question  as 
to  the  name  of  the  river  which,  now  that  I  had  come 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  95 

to  the  car  door  and  could  get  a  better  view  of  it,  seemed 
more  magnificent  than  ever. 

"  That  is  the  Tennessee,"  said  Jake  ;  "  somethin'  of  a 
brook,  ain't  it  ?" 

There  did  seem,  indeed,  to  be  a  large  body  of  water 
passing  by,  and  I  said  so,  which  induced  Bence  to 
remark  that  the  river  was  specially  high  this  season, 
which  may  or  may  not  have  been  the  case  ;  I  did  not 
know. 

"  But  what  are  we  stopping  for,  and  where  are  we  ?" 
I  asked. 

"  Don't  get  anxious,  little  one,"  said  Bracebridge,  a 
particularly  quiet,  unimpressionable  old  veteran  in  our 
party.  "  You  know  as  much  as  the  rest  of  us  do." 

Bence  broke  in  here  to  remark  that  Fred  and  one 
other  of  the  boys  had  been  seen  near  the  head  of  the 
train,  with  comrades  from  other  companies,  listening  to 
our  captain,  who  had  been  in  conference  with  a  lot  of 
strange  officials  ;  and  that,  probably,  when  he  (Fred) 
returned  to  our  car,  we  would  have  some  definite 
information. 

"And  here  they  come  now  !"  cried  one  of  our  men 
from  a  position  outside  the  car. 

Shortly  afterward  Fred  climbed  in  ;  and  we  plied 
him  with  questions  to  our  heart's  content.  In  the 
meanwhile  "All  aboard!"  had  been  called,  and  the  train 
began  to  move. 

It  seemed  that  we  were  within  a  few  miles  of  Bridge- 
port, Alabama — that  we  would  probably  have  to  leave 
the  cars  at  that  place  and  go  the  rest  of  the  way  on 
foot,  as  the  track  to  the  rear  of  Sherman's  army  was 
already  overcrowded  with  trains. 

"  I  gathered  from  the  conversation  in  general,"  Fred 
went  on,  "  that  we  have  about  sixty  miles  to  go,  over  a 
part  of  the  Racoon  Mountains  near  Shellmound,  to  a 


96  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

place  called  Ringgold,  where  Sherman's  army  is,  and 
if  we  don't  find  him  there,  we  're  to  follow  on  until  we 
overtake  him." 

"Mighty  poor  pickings  we  '11  get  after  Sherman's 
army,"  muttered  Taylor. 

"  Well,  we  can  be  trusted  to  make  up  for  it  when  we 
get  a  chance,"  said  Jake,  sententiously. 

"Yes,"  Fred  broke  in,  "and  it  looks  as  if  we 
were  going  to  get  a  chance  right  away,  for  the  captain 
said  that  he  was  going  to  take  us  over  a  road  that  had 
not  been  travelled  before." 

"That  's  the  kind  of  talk  !"  we  all  cried,  impulsively. 

After  this,  Fred's  stock  of  information  having  been 
exhausted,  we  fell  to  discussing  the  fine  prospects  of 
good  foraging,  which  we  might  reasonably  expect,  if 
the  captain  did  what  he  hoped  to  do. 

I  felt  as  if  walking  would  rest  me  after  being  cramped 
up  in  a  freight  car  for  three  days,  and,  not  knowing 
how  the  rest  felt  about  it,  I  ventured  to  say  as  much. 
This  also  shook  down  an  avalanche  of  unflattering 
remarks. 

"  That 's  all  very  well,  but  you  just  poke  your  head  out 
here,"  cried  Jake,  seizing  my  arm  and  leading  me  to 
the  car-door. 

We  were  rattling  along  over  the  road  at  a  good  rate 
of  speed  at  the  time,  and  though  there  was  a  sameness 
about  the  green  wall  of  forest  foliage  that  fronted  us, 
I  could  catch,  now  and  then,  through  open  spaces, 
glimpses  of  rugged  scenery  and  of  the  eternal  hills 
beyond. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  that  is  what  I  have  been  looking  at 
for  some  time." 

"Well,"  said  Jake,  "those  hills  lie  right  across  our 
track,  and  by  the  time  you  have  marched  over  them 
two  or  three  months  and  been  in  the  service  as  long  as 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  97 

we  have,  you'll  make  up  your  mind  that  there  's  no  fun 
in  tramping  up  and  down  hill  all  the  time." 

"  Besides,"  interrupted  Kimball,  feeling  that  the  sub- 
ject of  walking  should  be  tabooed,  and  anxious  to  talk  of 
something  else,  "  we  are  going  to  find  it  a  trifle  hotter 
in  Alabama." 

"  A  trifle !"  cried  Jake,  as  willing  to  grumble  about 
one  thing  as  another.  "A  trifle  !  it  '11  be  a  heap  hotter  ; 
the  summer  's  only  just  coming  on,  too." 

In  the  midst  of  our  good-natured  chaffing,  the  train 
came  to  a  stop,  and  we  were  all  ordered  out.  In  a  few 
minutes  more  we  had  cleared  the  cars  of  everything 
that  belonged  to  us,  and  were  marching  up  the  track 
beside  the  'train.  Afterward  we  passed  through  the 
town  and  over  a  bridge  to  where  we  halted,  to  light  our 
fires  for  breakfast. 

From  this  halting  place,  looking  back  across  the 
river,  we  could  see  Bridgeport  and  the  railroad  for 
some  distance,  where  long  lines  of  empty  cars  were 
waiting  to  pass  the  train  which  had  brought  us,  and 
start  on  their  journey  northward,  for  "  more  provisions 
and  more  ammunition,"  it  was  said. 

We  learned,  later,  that  we  had  enjoyed  a  special 
favor  in  being  transferred  to  the  front  in  cars,  as  all 
other  regiments  joining  Sherman  had  been  required  to 
march,  because  the  railroad  was  taxed  to  its  utmost  in 
carrying  to  the  front  ammunition  and  provisions. 

As  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  the  command  to  "  fall 
in "  was  given  and,  as  we  stood  in  line,  in  the  road, 
fully  equipped  for  whatever  might  happen,  when  we 
had  got  fairly  into  the  enemy's  country,  Captain  Hartees 
stepped  in  front  of  us  and,  calling  :  "Attention  !"  said  : 

"  Men,  we  are  just  on  the  borders  of  a  hostile  country  ; 
our  previous  methods  of  marching  will  now  have  to 
be  changed  !  I  want  you  to  keep  close  together  from 


98  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

this  time  out.  No  straggling,  remember  !  I  hope  to 
pass  through  a  country  that  has  not  been  tramped  over 
by  both  armies  and,  if  we  do,  I  believe  you  will  en- 
joy it." 

Smiling,  good-naturedly,  as  he  concluded,  he  turned 
away,  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  line  and,  after 
three  rousing  cheers -which  we  gave  with  a  will,  away 
we  went. 

We  followed  the  main  road  as  far  as  Tyler,  a  small 
town  which  we  reached  early  in  the  afternoon. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  begged,  bought,  borrowed 
or  stolen  in  this  place.  It  was  literally  cleaned  out  of 
everything. 

The  few  people  still  living  there  looked  peaked,  half- 
starved  and  poor,  indeed  ;  the  rest  had  gone  away, 
leaving  behind  them  only  their  houses  and  other  im- 
movable property. 

We  filled  our  canteens  with  fresh  water,  however, 
and,  after  thoroughly  satisfying  ourselves  that  there 
was  nothing  else  worth  taking,  we  moved  on,  leaving 
the  main  road,  at  that  place,  to  follow  one  that  evidently 
had  been  less  traveled. 

Along  this  new  road  we  marched  for  three  or  four 
hours,  without  seeing  signs  of  habitation  of  any  kind. 

There  were  neither  fences  nor  clearings,  nor  any- 
thing but  woods  and  breaks,  and  rocks,  that  sometimes 
lay  close  to  the  edge  of  the  road,  but  quite  as  often  had 
rolled  in  heaps  into  it,  making  our  path  the  roughest 
kind  of  walking. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  came  to  a  clearing,  in  the 
center  of  which  stood  a  house.  On  one  side  the  land- 
scape was  just  beginning  to  turn  green  with  young 
shoots  of  corn.  On  the  other  side  vegetables,  of  vari- 
ous kinds,  were  planted  and  beginning  to  grow.  At 
the  open  door  stood  two  small  white-headed  boys, 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  99 

watching  us  as  we  turned  in  from  the  road  ;  and  within 
we  caught  sight  of  a  red-cheeked  woman.  Her  sleeves 
were  rolled  up  as  if  she  had  been  cooking. 

"  Got  any  chicken  ?"  Fred  asked  of  the  woman  who 
came  to  the  door,  as  soon  as  she  discovered  our  ap- 
proach. 

"  No,  I  aint  got  no  chickens,  nor  anything  else,  'cept 
a  duck  and  a  drake,  and  those  I  don't  want  to  sell." 

"  Sure  you  haven't  ?"  Fred  insisted.  "  No  use  to  hide 
them,  you  know  ;  if  you  Ve  got  'em  we  are  goin'  to 
make  a  search  for  'em.  We'll  buy  'em,  but  we'll  have 
'em  sure." 

"  1  tell  you  I  aint  got  no  chicks,  nor  ducks,  nor  nothin' 
else.  You'd  better  go  on  about  your  business.  Come 
here  robbin*  people  !" 

"  Quack,  quack,  quack  !"  came  from  the  back  of  the 
house.  The  woman's  face  flushed  as  she  started  from 
the  door  and  ran  round  the  house  to  a  little  pen  that 
stood  behind,  where  we  soon  saw  her  struggling  with 
old  Grimes  for  the  possession  of  her  duck,  which  was 
flapping  its  wings  violently  and  giving  utterance  to  half- 
strangled  cries  in  a  vain  effort  to  get  away  from  the 
strong  hand  that  had  grasped  its  neck. 

"  It 's  no  use,  mum,"  said  Grimes ;  "  the  duck  's  a 
goner.  I  '11  give  you  four  bits  for  him,  but  he  's  my 
meat." 

While  she  was  fighting  for  one  bird  the  other  myste- 
riously and  noiselessly  disappeared,  and  we  were  about 
to  investigate  further  when  a  beehive,  that  had  been 
upset  to  open  a  way  to  the  honey,  sent  out  a  swarm  of 
maddened  insects,  and  we  fled  before  them.  In  spite 
of  the  bees,  however,  some  of  the  boys  got  a  little 
honey. 

We  left  the  young  corn  standing  when  we  went,  and 
while  our  actions,  looking  back  on  them  now,  were 


100  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

unquestionably  mean,  it  seemed  to  me  at  the  time  that 
the  woman,  poor  as  she  was,  ought  to  have  been  grate- 
ful to  us  for  not  taking  everything,  whether  we  wanted 
it  or  not. 

The  next  habitation  that  we  discovered  on  our  march 
was  a  large,  fine-looking  mansion,  having  a  double  row 
of  balconies  running  entirely  around  the  house,  and 
surrounded  by  numerous  outbuildings. 

The  sun  was  on  the  point  of  setting  when  we  arrived; 
and  in  a  moment,  after  we  were  ordered  to  halt,  the 
place  was  swarming  with  our  blue-coated  men. 

I  saw  a  private  of  Company  I  fix  his  bayonet  and  run 
it  through  a  young  pig  that,  with  several  others,  was 
following  its  mother  at  full  speed  away  from  him.  A 
number  of  our  company,  Fred  among  them,  joined  in 
chasing  the  pigs  that  had  not  been  secured. 

I,  however,  felt  too  tired  to  go  running  about  after 
pigs,  and  so,  with  others,  selected  the  house  as  the 
scene  of  my  explorations. 

As  we  approached  we  saw  a  few  black  faces  shyly 
peering  at  us  from  around  the  corners  of  the  building, 
but  we  saw  no  one  either  to  welcome  us  or  tq  dispute 
our  right  to  enter  and  make  ourselves  at  home. 

Entering,  we  gave  attention  first  to  the  cellar  where 
we  found,  among  other  things,  a  half -barrel  of  peach 
brandy,  some  preserves  and  thirty  or  forty  pounds  of 
honey.  When  we  came  up  we  found  the  owner  of  the 
place. 

We  had  no  particular  use  for  him,  but  he  was  a  sight 
that,  in  spite  of  us,  claimed  our  attention  for  some  little 
time. 

He  stood  on  the  stairs  cursing  and  calling  down  all 
sorts  of  maledictions  on  the  heads  of  Yankee  soldiers, 
in  general,  and  upon  us  in  particular  ;  and  his  fingers 
worked  as  though  he  would  have  liked  to  have  a  clutch 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  101 

• 

upon  each  and  every  one  of  us  ;  but  he  did  not  have  it 
and  seeing,  probably,  that  we  were  a  few  too  many  for 
him,  contented  himself  with  words  only.  After  silent- 
ly enjoying  his  antics  for  a  little  while,  we  left 
him,  talking  as  loudly  and  as  blasphemously  as 
ever. 

Loaded  down  with  bacon,  honey,  corn-meal,  pre- 
serves., brandy  and  wheat  flour,  we  left  the  house  and 
joined  some  of  the  boys  in  the  road.  Other  comrades 
were  coming  from  all  points  of  the  compass,  some  with 
chickens,  ducks,  peas,  fresh  pork  ;  some  with  one  thing 
and  some  with  another ;  and,  while  we  waited,  out  of 
the  woods,  away  up  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  came 
perhaps  a  dozen  others,  bearing  on  a  fence  rail  several 
portions  of  a  cow  which  they  had  found  and  killed. 

There  was  little  use  in  our  attempting  to  go  much 
farther  that  night,  and  it  was  with  gladdened  hearts 
that  we  received  orders  to  bivouac  where  we  were.  In 
a  short  time  a  guard  had  been  thrown  out  around  the 
house  and  the  regiment ;  rail-fences  were  then  pulled 
down,  fires  lighted,  and  in  a  short  time  a  glorious  feast 
was  preparing.  We  had  plenty  of  everything  that 
night,  and  all  at  the  expense  of  one  man  who,  thus  far, 
had  evidently  not  been  treated  to  a  taste  of  war. 

There  were  a  charm  and  a  romance  about  this  sort  of 
thing  which  rather  pleased  me,  and  I  began  to  see 
something  of  the  glamour  that  surrounds  the  soldier's 
life  and  leads  him  to  reenlist  in  spite  of  ties  of  blood 
and  home. 

Hay  and  straw  from  a  well-filled  barn  supplied  us 
with  comfortable  roadside  beds,  and  the  next  morning, 
a  little  after  sunrise,  our  breakfast  eaten,  we  took  to 
the  road  again. 

Since  starting,  we  had  been  marching  in  column ; 
now,  however,  our  company  were  deployed  as  skinn- 


102  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

ishers  on  the  right  of  the  regiment  which  was  following 
the  road. 

Fred  explained  to  me,  as  we  tramped  along,  that 
marching  thus,  something  in  the  shape  of  a  letter  T, 
with  a  line  of  skirmishers  thrown  out  each  side  from 
the  head  of  the  column,  we  covered  more  ground,  and 
guarded  more  completely  against  surprises  from  the 
enemy. 

The  rest  of  the  regiment  marching  in  the  road  found 
no  difficulty  in  getting  along  but  for  our  company, 
scattered  in  a  long  line  at  right  angles  to  the  regiment, 
with  about  twenty  or  twenty-five  feet  between  each 
man,  this  method  of  marching  was  hard  work.  With 
no  road  or  beaten  path  to  walk  in,  we  were  compelled 
to  force  our  way  up  and  down  hill,  through  woods  and 
creeks,  and  swamps  and  tangled  jungles  and  places 
where  it  seemed  as  if  the  foot  of  man  had  never  trod- 
den before. 

Sometimes  we,  at  the  further  end  of  the  line,  would 
come  in  sight  of  the  road  from  a  clearing  on  the  top  of 
some  hill,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant ;  then  the  road 
would  be  lost  to  sight  for  an  hour,  perhaps.  Occasion- 
ally we  were  walking  comfortably  along  over  some 
sparsely  wooded  hill,  where  the  bright  sunlight  poured 
through  the  branches  above  us,  and  in  a  moment  after- 
ward we  were  plunging  through  the  tangled  under- 
growth of  some  densely  wooded  dell,  always  trying  to 
maintain  our  distances,  keep  up  with  the  left  of  the 
line,  move  when  the  regiment  moved,  and  halt  when  it 
halted. 

Dismal  and  lonely,  with  no  other  sign  of  life  except 
the  whir  from  the  wings  of  some  bird,  that  had  been 
startled  from  its  meditative  solitude  by  our  approach 
or  the  far-off  sound  of  "  H-a-l-t !"  or  "At-ten-tion !"  as  it 
was  borne  to  us  on  the  quiet  air. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  103 

On  one  occasion,  after  we  had  been  tramping  for  a 
long  time  over  this  rugged  country  without  resting, 
Fred  discovered  a  little  clearing  and  a  house  hidden 
away  off  to  the  right.  It  was  a  spot  that  did  not  appear 
to  ever  have  been  visited  by  foragers  from  either  army. 

Just  at  that  moment  it  also  happened  that  our  boys 
in  the  road  were  called  to  a  halt.  Here  was  an  oppor- 
tunity for  our  own  exclusive  investigation  that  was  too 
good  to  be  resisted ;  and,  stimulated  by  the  same 
impulse,  tired  as  we  were,  we  started  on  the  run  for  the 
clearing. 

As  we  drew  nearer  we  saw  a  little  shanty,  or  curing- 
house,  which  held  forth  a  promise  of  tobacco.  A  few 
steps  farther,  and  we  saw  hidden  in  a  hollow  a  little  stone 
building  sitting  astride  a  brook,  evidently  a  spring- 
house,  where  milk,  butter  and  eggs  were  kept.  The 
promise  of  something  more  than  tobacco  was  enough 
to  divert  our  attention  from  the  shanty,  and  when  the 
spring-house  was  reached  it  was  but  the  work  of  a 
moment  to  remove  the  wooden  pin  from  the  staple,  pall 
back  the  hasp,  open  the  door  and  walk  in. 

The  room  we  entered  was  not  above  six  feet  high 
and,  perhaps,  ten  feet  square.  It  was  provided  with  a 
brick  floor,  in  the  middle  of  which,  running  from  wall 
to  wall,  and  through  a  stone-lined  ditch  about  two  feet 
wide  and  eight  inches  deep,  flowed  a  stream  of  clear 
cold  water  from  a  neighboring  spring. 

A  single  crock  of  fresh  milk  sat  cooling  in  the  water. 

"They  did  not  hide  that,  did  they?"  said  Fred. 
"  But,"  reflectively,  "  they  've  hidden  the  cow." 

"  We  are  not  going  to  find  fault  with  the  milk  for  that," 
said  I. 

It  was  surprising  how  careless  of  dirt  I  had  become 
after  being  a  soldier  for  so  short  a  time.  I  rubbed  the 
dust  from  my  fire-blackened  tin  dipper  as  well  as  I 


104  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

could  against  a  wisp  of  grass  that  grew  by  the  door, 
and  scooped  up  a  dipper  full  of  milk. 

Fred,  who  had  filled  his  dipper  before  me,  did  not 
even  take  the  trouble  to  clean  it ;  just  hit  it  against  the 
wall  of  the  building. 

After  drinking  our  fill,  we  poured  what  milk  was  left 
into  our  canteens  and  looked  searchingly  around  for 
something  more. 

"  What's  above  here,  I  wonder  ?"  said  Fred,  looking 
upward. 

I  glanced  up  and  saw,  just  over  my  head,  a  square 
hole  cut  in  the  flooring.  Raising  myself  through  the 
hole  by  my  hands,  I  got  my  head  above  the  level  of  the 
floor  and,  with  Fred's  assistance  underneath,  was  soon 
sprawling  up  there  in  the  darkness. 

"  Find  anything  ?"  Fred  asked,  expectantly. 

"  Yes  ;  here  's  some  tobacco." 

"  Throw  it  down." 

I  threw  down  half  a  dozen  heads  at  least — all  I  could 
find,  at  any  rate — and  continued  my  search. 

"  Here  's  some  beans  or  peas ;  I  don't  know  which 
they  are,"  said  I,  after  a  few  "moments'  search. 

"  Let 's  have  'em.  We  do  not  get  peas  or  beans  either 
while  marching." 

Down  went  the  beans. 

I  felt  along  a  little  further  and  came  upon  a  small 
barrel  which  seemed  to  be  half  full  of  something,  as, 
when  tipped  to  one  side,  it  fell  back  heavily  into  its 
upright  position. 

"  What  is  it?"  said  Fred,  hearing  the  jar  on  the  floor. 

"  I  don't  know.     It 's  heavy,  like  sirup." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  honey — strained  honey.  They  hide  it 
in  that  way  sometimes.  It  takes  up  less  room." 

We  were  in  a  bee  country,  and  had  found  some  honey 
the  day  before.  Why  should  not  this  be  honey?  I 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  105 

reached  my  hand  down  into  the  barrel  until  it  came 
in  contact  with  a  soft,  sticky  fluid.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  about  it.  My  imagination  swam  in  honey.  I 
did  not  have  my  share  of  yesterday's  find,  and  with 
that  in  mind,  perhaps,  my  anticipation  now  was  the 
more  lively. 

"Well/*  cried  Fred,  somewhat  impatiently,  "what 
are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?" 

"  I  smelt  of  it  and  imagined  that  it  smelt  very  much 
like  honey." 

"Smells  like  it,  "said  I. 

"  Taste  it,  or  else  let  me,"  said  Fred,  impatiently, 
catching  hold  of  the  side  of  the  floor. 

I  took  one  taste  and  that  was  enough.  It  was 
nauseating.  It  seemed  as  if  I  never  could  get  that 
taste  out  of  my  mouth,  try  as  hard  as  I  might. 

"  Dash  it,  it 's  soft  soap  !"  I  cried,  fairly  shivering  with 
disgust,  and  my  face,  particularly  the  mouth  part  of  it, 
went  through  all  sorts  of  contortions  at  the  same  time, 
which  were  of  course,  lost  in  the  darkness. 

Fred  who  was  looking  up  in  expectation  uttered  a 
snort,  half  of  disappointment  and  half  of  enjoyment  it 
my  ludicrous  mishap  and  said  : 

"  Never  mind,  pass  me  down  a  dipperful "  —  and  I 
saw  his  hand  with  the  dipper  sticking  up  through  the 
hole,  and  I  heard  him  say,  as  I  was  filling  it  : 

"  I  wish  I  had  time  to  wash  a  shirt." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

That  night  there  came  up  a  violent  rainstorm  that 
seemed  to  have  been  sent  purposely  to  unpleasantly 
vary  our  experience.  How  long  it  had  been  raining 
before  I  woke  I  did  not  know ;  but  I  was  fully  conscious 
of  the  fact  that  one  corner  of  our  tent  had  broken 
away  from  its  fastening  and  was  flapping  in  the  wind, 
that  my  feet  were  in  a  pool  of  water  and  that  I  was 
literally  drenched. 

As  sleep  was  out  of  the  question,  I  put  my  head 
through  my  poncho  [rubber  blanket]  and  went  to  a 
sputtering  fire  that  some  of  the  boys  had  kept  well 
supplied  with  wood.  To  get  dry  was  impossible.  I 
could  only  keep  warm. 

One  after  another  of  our  rain-soaked  and  thoroughly 
demoralized  comrades  joined  us  at  the  fire,  where  we 
spent  the  night  feeding  the  blaze,  rubbing  our  eyes, 
which  smarted  with  smoke,  and  toasting  our  calves 
and  shins. 

By  daylight  the  rain  had  ceased,  and  we  were  able  to 
wring  the  water  out  of  our  blankets  and  tents  and 
partly  dry  them  by  the  fire  before  breakfast. 

When  our  morning  meal  was  finished  and  our  damp 

blankets  and  tents  were  rolled  up,  we  went  trailing  and 

sloshing  along,  through  mud  and  wet,  as  disconsolate- 

and  gloomy-looking  a  column  and  skirmishing  line  as 

[106] 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  107 

ever  ventured  into  an  enemy'g  country.  Shortly  after 
we  started  a  drizzling  rain  set  in  and  continued  through- 
out the  day. 

The  boys  all  put  on  their  ponchos,  from  the  corners 
of  which  the  water  flowed  in  streams  and,  in  this 
picturesque  condition,  carrying  our  muskets  at  a  "  se- 
cure," we  plodded  along  hour  after  hour. 

There  was  little  or  no  comfort  to  be  gained  from  the 
"  rests,"  for  the  ground  was  soaked  with  water,  and 
sometimes  we  went  in  over  our  shoe-tops  in  the  soft 
earth.  About  the  only  bit  of  pleasantry  offered  during 
the  day  came  from  Fred,  who  said : 

"  I  did  hope  to  get  time  enough  to  wash  a  shirt ;  but 
it 's  all  right  now.  All  I  need  is  to  dry  it." 

The  only  encouragement  we  received  came  late  in 
the  afternoon  from  "  Black  Lige,"  who,  with  a  couple  of 
fat  chickens  in  each  hand,  passed  us,  singing  softly  to 
himself : 

"  Nebber  min'  de  wedder  so  de  win'  don'  blow, 
Nebber  min'  de  wedder  so  de  win'  don'  blow, 
Nebber  min'  de  wedder  so  de  win'  don'  blow, 
Don'  yer  bodder  'bout  yer  trouble  till  it  comes." 

Here  was  a  bit  of  philosophy  for  me  ;  for  our  situa- 
ation,  bad  as  it  was,  would  have  been  infinitely  worse 
had  there  been  any  wind  blowing.  The  life  of  a  soldier, 
in  fine  weather,  had  thus  far  possessed  for  me  an  inde- 
scribable charm  ;  but  a  soaking  rain  was  something  I 
had  not  bargained  for,  and  but  for  the  sentiment  con- 
tained in  the  song  of  Black  Lige,  my  patriotism, 
which  was  already  at  a  low  ebb,  would  have  disappeared 
altogether. 

All  day  long  we  had  marched  over  hills  and  moun- 
tains, and  into  valleys  so  deserted  and  lonesome  that 
they  seemed  isolated  from  the  rest  of  the  world  ;  now 
threading  our  way  along  ridges  so  narrow  that  a  dozen 


108  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

men  could  scarcely  walk  abreast ;  at  other  times  slowly 
pushing  through  the  heavy  wet  undergrowth  in  deep 
defiles,  with  towering,  perpendicular  cliffs  on  either  side. 

The  sun  was  already  getting  low  and  the  prospect  of 
finding  a.  good  camping  spot  for  the  night  was  dreary 
and  cheerless  enough,  but  after  a  while,  coming  to  the 
top  of  a  hill,  we  saw,  in  the  valley  below,  a  small  village 
nestled  among  the  trees. 

A  little  brook,  concealed  here  and  there  by  bushes, 
threaded  its  way  close  by  the  village.  Along  the  banks 
of  this  rivulet  everything  was  fresh  and  green,  while 
the  foliage  in  the  country  beyond  looked,  in  the  murky 
atmosphere,  as  if  it  needed  a  week  of  steady  rain  to 
redeem  it. 

"  There  's  a  good  place  for  a  bivouac,"  said  I,  point- 
ing to  an  open  field,  near  the  village. 

"  Yes,  looks  as  well  as  you  might  expect  on  a  day 
like  this,  but  there  are  too  many  houses  around.  Too 
many  houses.  You  never  know  what  to  expect  when 
you  camp  near  a  town,"  Jake  answered  thoughtfully. 

"  But  you  don't  call  that  a  town,  do  you  ?  There  are 
only  a  few  houses,  and  they  certainly  look  honest 
enough." 

"  Looks  don't  count  for  much  down  here.  It  don't 
take  much  of  a  town  to  stir  up  a  hornet's  nest,  where 
there  's  a  few  lively  rebs  living.  Just  give  'em  a 
chance,  and  they  're  like  a  lot  of  wolves  ;  they  '11  sound 
an  alarm,  and  bring  a  whole  pack  down  on  you.  I  had 
a  taste  of  it  once  up  in  East  Tennessee,  in  'sixty-two." 

"  Come,  men,"  said  Corporal  Stebbins,  "  we  're  goin'  to 
camp  on  the  other  side  of  that  town  below  there  ;  nice 
place,  heaps  of  rails,  straw,  water." 

"  What,  water  ?"  interrupted  Jake,  sarcastically. 

"  Yes,  and  everything  else  we  want.  Move  along  a 
little  faster,  men.  Let's  get  down  there  as  soon 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  109 

as  the  column  does  and  have  our  fires  started  before 
it  's  any  darker." 

Stimulated  by  this  cheering  bit  of  information,  we 
put  more  vigor  into  our  movements,  and,  after  passing 
one  or  two  houses,  reached  a  broad,  level  bottom-land, 
where  we  halted  and  went  into  camp  for  the  night.  We 
seemed  to  be  in  a  sort  of  basin,  surrounded  by  woods, 
and  only  a  short  distance  removed  from  the  town, 
which  consisted  of  a  dozen  or  more  old  tumble-down 
houses,  scattered  along,  at  irregular  intervals,  by  the 
side  of  the  road.  These  houses  were  without  paint 
and  falling  to  pieces,  and  we  would  have  thought  them 
tenantless  if  we  had  not  seen  two  or  three  men  stand- 
ing about  the  doorways,  who  acted  as  if  they  had  a 
right  there.  The  fences,  that  had  formerly  inclosed 
the  yards  from  the  road,  were  all  down,  leaving  only  a 
post  here  and  there  to  mark  the  place  they  had  occu- 
pied. 

The  road  itself  showed  signs  of  having  been  used  at 
some  time  or  other,  but  it  was  now  cut  by  deep  ruts 
and  washouts,  and  the  grass  grew  rank  there.  Alto- 
gether, it  was  a- sleepy,  deserted  place,  firm  in  the  grip 
of  decay. 

The  zigzag  fences  in  the  fields  gave  us  firewood ;  and, 
after  a  little  patient  effort,  we  got  a  fire  started  and 
went  to  work  to  cook  our  supper. 

The  two  or  three  men  we  had  seen  at  last  gathered 
courage  sufficient  to  satisfy  their  curiosity  as  to  what 
sort  of  beings  we  were,  and  came  cautiously  slouching 
along  the  road  through  the  camp,  watching,  with  hun- 
gry, wide-open  eyes  and  mouths,  our  boys  cooking 
supper.  They  did  not  improve  in  looks  on  near  view. 
They  were  thin,  lank,  barefooted  and  dressed  in  tat- 
tered clothes  ;  their  beards  were  tangled,  their  long 
hair  uncombed,  and  their  faces  almost  imbecile  for 


110  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

want  of  expression.  They  were  the  poor  whites,  cor- 
responding to  what  are  called  "  Crackers  "  in  some  parts 
of  the  South. 

"  Hello,  stranger,"  cried  Fred  to  one  of  them.  "  What 
do  you  call  the  name  of  this  place  ?" 

"  'Coon  Bottom,"  drawled  the  man,  discharging  a 
mouthful  of  tobacco  juice  upon  the  ground. 

"  That 's  for  Raccoon  Bottom  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  'Coon  Bottom,"  he  repeated,  looking  at  me  out 
of  the  corners  of  his  yellow  eyes. 

"Can  we  get  any  milk  here  !"  inquired  Fred,  as  he 
blew  out  the  blaze  on  a  piece  of  bacon  he  had  been 
holding  in  the  fire. 

"No  cows,"  drawled  the  bushwhacker. 

"  Got  anything  at  all  ?"  Fred  asked  again. 

"  Nope." 

"  Seen  anything  of  Sherman's  army  ?" 

"  Nope." 

"  Do  you  belong  here  ?" 

"  Yep,"  and  he  skulked  off  after  his  companions,  who 
had  gone  on  ahead. 

"  Didn't  get  much  out  of  that  chap,  did  you,  Fred  ?" 
said  I. 

"  No  ;  he  didn't  seem  very  anxious  to  talk." 

"  I  wonder  if  they  are  all  like  that  down  here  in  these 
parts  ?" 

"  Whether  they  are  or  not,"  Bence  broke  in,  "  there  's 
a  devilish  grin  in  their  ugly  faces  that  I  don't  like,  and  I 
can't  feel  easy  in  this  place,  wet  or  dry.  Wish  we  were 
out  of  it." 

So  do  I,  if  there  is  any  harm  in  staying  !"  said  I. 
"  The  guard  will  have  to  keep  their  ears  open  to-night." 

"  Of  course  they  will,"  answered  Bence.  "  But  what  '11 
that  amount  to,  if  there  're  any  bushwhackers  lying 
around  here?  They  '11  sneak  up  on  the  best  of  us. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  Ill 

These  fellows  will  be  away  to  give  the  alarm  long  be- 
fore we  can  surround  the  place  and  keep  them  in  with 
a  picket."  . 

"  Well,  I  suppose  we  '11  stay,  whatever  comes  !" 

"  Yes,"  he  responded  ;  then,  pointing  to  the  hill,  he 
said  :  "  There,  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

I  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  and  saw,  fading  in 
the  gloom,  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  the  dark  forms  of 
three  men. 

"  That  looks  like  trouble  for  us,"  Fred  remarked, 
tersely.  He,  also,  had  followed  the  direction  of  Jake's 
finger.  "  But,  perhaps  not,"  he  added.  "  I  hope  not." 

Shortly  after  supper  the  storm  ceased,  the  clouds 
parted,  the  stars  came  out,  and  the  air  became  clear  and 
warm.  After  we  had  partly  dried  our  clothing  the  fires 
were  allowed  to  die  away,  and  the  regiment,  with  the 
exception  of  the  guard,  was  soon  asleep. 

I  was  suddenly  startled  from  my  dreams  by  a  wild 
yell,  a  volley  of  musketry  and  the  whistling  of  bullets. 
Every  man  of  us  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  But, 
by  the  time  we  had  seized  our  weapons  and  rallied  to 
repel  our  enemy,  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  in  the 
darkness  -except  the  woods  and  the  black  outlines  of 
the  houses  here  and  there.  Neither  was  there  a  sound 
to  be  heard,  save  the  thud  and  thump  of  horses'  hoofs 
retreating  up  the  road. 

Replenishing  our  fires  with  more  broken  fence  rails, 
we  found,  by  the  light,  that  Peter  Baker,  one  of  the 
boys  in  Company  D,  had  been  killed  outright  and  per- 
haps a  dozen  others  had  been  slightly  wounded.  Un- 
doubtedly more  would  have  been  killed  if  the  enemy 
had  fired  at  us  at  a  little  shorter  range. 

There  was  nothing  we  could  do  about  it  except  to 
attend  the  wounded  and  await  further  developments. 
The  camp  was  soon  as  deathly  still  as  the  dead  form 


THE     GUN-BEARER. 

of  our  comrade,  lying  motioness  beside  us,  and  there 
yet  remained  many  dark  hours  of  the  night  in  which  I 
might  think  it  over.  I  was  glad  when  I  saw  the  day 
break  ;  happier  still  when  the  sun  rose  above  the  edge 
of  the  woods. 

At  an  early  hour,  and  after  another,  and  this  time 
successful,  effort  to  dry  our  blankets,  and  when  every- 
thing was  ready  to  resume  our  march,  we  were  drawn 
up  in  line  and  addressed  by  Captain  Hartees. 

"  Men,"  said  he,  "  before  we  leave  this  place  we  must 
bury  Peter  Baker,  who  was  shot  last  night  by  that  gang 
of  cowardly  ruffians  who  fired  upon  us  when  we  were 
asleep." 

Two  men  detailed  from  Peter's  company  had  already 
dug  a  grave  at  the  foot  of  a  huge  butternut  tree,  in  the 
bark  of  which  a  comrade  had  cut  a  large  cross. 

While  they  were  bringing  the  body,  wrapped  in  a 
blanket,  to  lay  it  in  the  grave,  we  could  see  the  hang- 
dog, sulking  vagabonds  of  the  village  collecting  on  the 
other  side  of  a  distant  fence. 

This  was  the  first  death  in  our  regiment  and,  coming 
as  it  did,  in  a  time  of  comparative  peace,  it  oppressed 
us  with  a  sorrow  more  than  usually  keen  and,  as  we 
stood  in  silence  about  the  grave,  we  marked  well  the 
indifferent  curiosity  of  the  people  who  were  watching 
and  grinning  at  us  from  behind  the  fence. 

Itxwas  not  the  chance  of  battle,  but  an  assasin's  bullet 
that  took  a  comrade  from  our  ranks  forever,  and  many 
a  savage  scowl  came  to  the  bronzed  faces  of  my  com- 
panions ;  many  a  muttered  threat  passed  from  mouth 
to  mouth,  against  the  wretches  who  were  responsible 
for  this  thing. 

When  the  body  had  been  lowered  to  its  last  resting- 
place  and  the  grave  had  been  filled  in,  Captain  Hartees, 
said  : 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  113 

"  I  want  Comrade  Baker's  company  to  fire  a  volley 
over  his  grave.  Fall  into  line,  Company  D,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  road." 

Baker's  company  then  fell  into  line  as  ordered,  and 
at  the  word  of  command,  faced  about,  bringing  them- 
selves opposite  to  the  distant  fence,  with  the  men  from 
the  village  partly  concealed  behind  it. 

"  Ready  !"  ordered  the  captain. 

"  Captain  !"  cried  the  orderly  sergeant  of  the  com- 
pany, "  these  guns  are  all  loaded  with  ball." 

"  Silence  !  Aim." 

"  But,  captain — "  said  the  sergeant,  not  wishing  to  be 
misunderstood. 

"  Fire  !  Right  face  !  Forward  march  !" 

We  had  little  time  and  still  less  inclination  to  see 
what  the  effect  of  that  volley  had  been  upon  the  people 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  fence,  but  there  was  evidently 
some  excitement  over  there,  from  the  appearance  of 
things. 

"  Served  'em  right,"  said  Fred  ;  "  I  only  hope  the  seed 
we  planted  fell  into  proper  ground.  This  is  the  second 
time  we  have  been  served  like  this  by  trusting  these 
people." 

"  It  is  a  little  rough  if  we  've  punished  the  innocent 
for  the  guilty,"  said  I. 

"  There  hain't  no  innocent,"  muttered  Jake ;  "all  those 
were  gone  long  ago." 

Resuming  our  order  of  march,  we  moved  on  without 
a  word.  I  was  thinking  of  him  who  had  been  left 
asleep  under  the  butternut-tree,  and  wondering  when 
my  turn  would  come. 

Nothing  unusual  happened  to  us  that  day.  We  picked 
up  forage  enough  to  give  diversity  to  our  meals ; 
enjoyed  the  usual  number  of  halts,  and  grumbled  over 
the  same  amount  of  tiresome  marching  as  on  the  day 


114  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

before.  At  night,  tired,  as  usual,  we  came  to  a  halt  in 
an  uninhabited  valley,  and,  after  a  supper  from  our 
rations  and  forage,  we  turned  in  and  slept,  undisturbed. 

The  next  day  and  the  next  we  went  through  the 
same  round  of  changes,  from  rest  to  motion  and  back 
again,  up  hill  and  down,  with  nothing  especially  new 
to  excite  us,  until  the  life  seemed  to  be  getting  about 
as  monotonous  as  our  existence  had  been  at  Point  Burn- 
side. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day  after  we  left  Rac- 
coon Bottom,  we  marched  down  through  Rossville,  and 
there  reached  the  main  road.  We  did  not  halt  in  the 
village,  but  marched  two  or  three  miles  beyond  it  and 
bivouacked  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER    X. 

The  day  following  our  arrival  in  Rossville  was  Sun- 
day, the  8th  of  May ;  but,  notwithstanding  the  sacred- 
ness  of  the  day,  we  were  on  the  march  as  early  and  we 
marched  as  far. 

There  was  so  little  to  attract  the  attention  on  this 
monotonous  tramp  that  I  kept  continually  thinking  of 
the  changes  time  brings  about.  In  my  mind's  eye  I 
could  see  my  New  England  home,  the  village  of  Way- 
town,  steeped  in  Sabbath  stillness.  The  shops  were 
closed  and  the  roadways  full  of  pious  people,  in  response 
to  the  tolling  bells  directing  their  way,  with  sober  faces, 
to  church.  I  wondered  if  Tommy  was  among  the  num- 
ber. What  a  difference  there  was  between  that  scene 
and  the  one  of  which  we  formed  a  part ! 

I  thought  of  old  Joe ;  of  the  sounding  horn,  and  of 
the  scene  in  front  of  the  tavern  on  the  night  he  brought 
in  the  news  that  Fort  Sumter  had  been  fired  on,  and 
then  the  stranger — now  our  captain — reading  to  us  in 
the  tavern.  How  curiously  it  had  all  come  about  !  I 
thought  of  the  disturbance  and  of  my  father.  Poor 
father,  a  rarely  good  man  at  heart  and  made  fretful 
only  by  sickness.  How  it  all  came  back  to  me,  and 
how  little  I  then  realized  that  the  war  would  last  long 
enough  for  me  to  have  a  part  in  it. 

£"$] 


116  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

This  days'  tramp  was  not  as  interesting  as  those  of 
the  few  days  before,  because,  now  that  we  were  follow- 
ing the  main  army  road,  those  little  delicacies  obtained 
in  the  fresh  country  we  had  passed  through  were  no 
longer  to  be  had,  even  by  Black  Lige,  the  most  sharp- 
eyed  genius  for  foraging  in  the  regiment.  Everything 
eatable  and  drinkable,  with  the  exception  of  water,  had 
been  already  seized,  devoured  or  drunk  by  the  hordes 
of  Confederates  and  Unionists  that  had  preceded  us. 
Indeed,  the  region  in  which  we  now  were  had  been 
well  stripped  by  the  enemy  before  Sherman  arrived, 
and  our  people  finished  that  work  completely. 

I  was  now  more  accustomed  to  marching,  and,  realiz- 
ing more  fully  that  every  step  was  taking  me  nearer  to 
the  front,  I  did  not  lack  food  for  thought  and  excite- 
ment with  which  to  brace  my  nerves.  Almost  any- 
thing, I  thought,  would  be  better  than  tramping  through 
that  desolate  and  devastated  country ;  but  the  proba- 
bility that  only  a  day  or  so  more  of  such  work  would 
put  us  in  the  midst  of  action  did  much  toward  reconcil- 
ing me  to  the  present. 

In  this  day's  march  we  passed  through  two  or  three 
villages,  or  rather  groups  of  houses,  but  made  no  halt 
among  them.  The  houses  looked  so  empty  and  deserted, 
with  windows  open  and  doors  agape  and  no  signs  of 
life  anywhere,  that  none  of  the  boys  were  tempted  to 
investigate. 

All  along  the  line  of  march  we  were  constantly  dis- 
covering evidences  of  the  wreck  and  waste  of  war,  and 
of  the  myriads  of  men  that  had  marched  that  way 
before  us,  and  were  then  'pressing  hard  upon  the  enemy 
behind  the  hills  in  front. 

The  fences  had  vanished  from  the  roadside  and  from 
the  fields  as  far  as  we  could  see.  Here  and  there  we 
came  upon  groups  of  blackened  circular  places  which 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  117 

marked  the  location  of  camp  fires.  At  times  these 
blackened  spots  were  numberless,  dotting  the  ground 
for  miles  around.  The  turf  was  cropped  short  by 
horses,  torn  up  by  their  hoofs,  and  scored  into  deep  ruts 
by  gun-carriage  wheels.  The  lower  branches  of  the 
trees  also,  those  within  reach  of  a  horse's  teeth,  were 
stripped  of  leaves ;  the  bark  had  been  gnawed  from  the 
tree  trunks,  shrubs  and  bushes  had  been  torn  up  by  the 
roots,  and  skeleton  twigs  and  branches  lay  scattered 
about. 

The  banks  of  the  water-courses  showed  the  plainest 
traces  of  the  army.  There,  in  the  moist  ground,  as  far 
up  and  down  the  stream  as  we  could  see,  were  the 
tracks  of  brogans,  bare  feet,  hoofs  and  wheels,  just  as 
they  had  been  left  when  the  feet  were  drawn  out  or  the 
wheels  rolled  on.  If  we  had  had  no  idea  before,  we 
learned  from  these  tracks  what  it  was  that  had  ground 
the  earth  up  into  the  fine  dust  that  now  rose  about  us 
in  stifling  clouds  at  the  softest  footfall  or  lightest 
breath  of  wind,  and,  floating  away,  covered  houses, 
trees,  grass  and  shrubs  with  a  thick,  dry  coat  of  yellow- 
ish gray. 

In  this  bed  of  dust  we  were  constantly  turning  up 
all  manner  of  things  which  the  army  had  cast  away: 
broken  wheels,  bits  of  harness,  worn-out  shoes,  hats, 
under-clothing,  broken  canteens,  battered  dippers — 
everthing  that  was  useless,  worn  out  or  cumbersome. 

In  a  little  rivulet  stood,  or  rather  lay,  an  army  wagon. 
The  forward  wheels  had  been  dished  as  the  wagon 
came  down  the  steep  bank  to  enter  the  stream,  and 
there  it  lay,  emptied  of  everything  except  the  smell  o£ 
pork  brine.  One  end  of  the  wagon  was  beneath  the 
surface  of  the  stream,  and  the  water  rippled  through 
and  around  it,  while  the  dirty  white  cover  flapped  lazily 
in  the  breeze. 


118  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

Such  were  some  of  the  scenes  we  met  in  that  country 
on  that  Sunday  march.  It  seemed  as  if  Sherman  had 
used  the  country  as  the  men  did  their  shoes  and  their 
clothing — used  it  up  and  then  dropped  it  in  the  dust. 

That  night  we  arrived  at  Ringgold,  a  town  somewhat 
larger  than  any  we  had  passed  through  and  decidedly 
more  populous  ;  for,  although  the  former  inhabitants 
had,  in  great  measure,  disappeared,  there  were  blue- 
coats  enough  to  take  their  places.  Here  was  another 
new  and  striking  scene  for  me.  In  the  place  of  white 
tents  scattered  through  the  fields,  there  were  the  yellow- 
white  covers  of  army  wagons,  drawn  up  on  the  lawns 
beside  the  road.  They  were  the  baggage  and  supply 
wagons  of  Sherman's  army,  which  could  not  now  be  far 
in  advance  of  us.  In  these  wagons,  also,  I  found  most 
positive  proof  that  we  were  not  advancing  alone  into 
the  enemy's  country,  but  that  not  far  away,  though 
hidden  now  by  intervening  hills,  we  should  find  the 
encampment  of  friends.  I  even  went  so  far  as  to  care- 
fully scan  the  country  in  front  of  me,  to  see  if  I  could 
catch  the  gleam  of  a  tent. 

While  some  of  the  boys  were  building  a  fire,  I  started, 
coffee-pot  in  hand,  for  a  well  that  stood  near  and,  while 
waiting  among  a  crowd  of  others  for  my  turn  at  the 
bucket,  I  noticed,  a  short  distance  away,  a  pretentious- 
looking  mansion,  which  must  have  belonged  to  the 
village  magnate.  The  air  of  former  grandeur  and 
present  desolation  that  pervaded  it  attracted  me  so 
strongly  that  I  approached  it  to  get  a  better  view. 

No  noise  broke  the  stillness  surrounding  the  place, 
nothing  was  heard  except  the  rumble  of  some  distant 
wagon  or  the  low  growls  of  the  tired  and  foot-sore 
soldiers  about  the  well.  The  doors  to  the  house  were 
gone  ;  the  windows  were  open,  and  without  shutters  or 
curtains  ;  everything  wide  open  and  staring,  like  the 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  119 

eyes  of  a  dead  man.  Tastefully  laid-out  flower  beds 
were  trampled  out  of  all  shape ;  urns  had  been  over- 
turned and  broken,  and  the  contents,  roots  and  mold, 
scattered  over  the  trodden  turf.  All  around  lay  broken 
pieces  of  crockery  and  of  furniture.  The  marble  steps 
and  the  floor  of  the  veranda  were  covered  with  dust 
and  dented  with  musket  butts.  Inside,  I  saw  what  had 
once  been  a  piano  ;  the  cover  off,  the  strings  all  broken 
and  snarled,  and  a  jagged  hole  in  the  sounding  board, 
where  a  musket  butt  had  been  smashed  down  through 
it,  shredding  it  into  splinters  ;  and  as  if  this  were  not 
enough,  the  keys  of  the  piano  had  been  broken  and 
some  of  them  were  sticking  straight  up  into  the  air. 

If  the  house  and  its  contents  had  been  fired  and  con- 
sumed, I  should  have  passed  the  place  without  thought ; 
but,  standing,  as  it  did,  in  desolation  and  ruin,  with  that 
unmusical  ghost  of  luxury  in  the  parlor,  it  left  a  picture 
in  my  mind  that  I  would  gladly  be  freed  from  ;  a  pic- 
ture which  is  like  a  lasting  reproach. 

But  little  time  was  left  me  for  gloomy  reflections  as 
I  was  soon  startled  into  consciousness  of  myself  and 
my  duties  on  that  occasion,  by  the  voice  of  one  of  our 
company  who,  in  language  more  emphatic  than  choice, 
demanded  what  I  was  doing  there  with  the  family 
coffee-pot  ? 

That  evening  I  hurried  through  supper,  that  I  might 
use  the  fading  daylight  to  add  a  few  more  lines  to  the 
letter  that,  at  every  opportunity  for  several  days,  I  had 
been  writing  to  Mary.  Not  an  hour  slipped  by  without 
some  thought  of  her  ;  not  a  day  without  some  addition 
to  this  letter,  which  I  had  carried  in  my  knapsack.  At 
Point  Burnside  the  mail  had  arrived  regularly ;  but, 
since  the  day  of  our  leaving  that  place,  I  had  received 
no  letter,  and,  compelled  to  be  satisfied  with  the  ones  I 
already  had,  I  lived  in  anticipation  of  the  one  that  must 


120  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

be  waiting  for  me  with  the  army  in  front.  This  even- 
ing, not  knowing  how  long  it  might  be  before  our  regi- 
ment would  be  plunged  into  the  very  heart  of  strife,  I 
was  especially  anxious  to  improve  the  opportunity  for 
writing. 

I  had  now  determined  to  bring  my  letter  to  a  close, 
so  as  to  post  it  in  Ringgold,  but  it  was  a  hard  thing  for 
me  to  do  ;  there  were  so  many  little  things  to  be  said, 
so  many  pledges  to  be  repeated,  that  I  lingered  over 
the  epistle  until  the  daylight  was  all  spent ;  then,  under 
the  shadow  of  the  rapidly  approaching  night,  I  folded 
up  the  letter,  and,  almost  with  a  wish  that  I  might  carry 
it  myself,  placed  it  in  the  bag  with  other  mail  for  the 
north. 

After  this  I  joined  Fred,  Jake  and  others  of  our  com- 
pany, who  were  just  starting  out  to  find  the  provost 
guard,  and  from  this  source  learn  the  latest  news. 

We  did  not  find  the  provost  guard,  but  discovered  a 
group  of  wagoners,  which  answered  our  purpose  quite 
as  well. 

The  wagons  were  standing  on  the  turf  of  an  unfenced 
yard  beside  the  road,  and  in  their  order  of  arrangement 
formed  a  crescent,  between  the  arms  of  which  brightly 
blazed  a  most  extravagant  fire,  that  lighted  up  a  picture 
of  camp-life  comfort  which  left  nothing  to  be  desired. 
The  men  looked  contented,  fresh  and  must  have  been 
supremely  happy  in  the  knowledge  that,  when  ordered 
to  move  forward,  they  could  either  ride  or  walk,  as  best 
suited  them  ;  and  they  seemed  to  be  experts  in  the  art 
of  "  taking  things  easy."  There  were  men  reclining  on 
wagon  tongues,  others  seated  by  the  fire,  and  others 
luxuriously  stretched  at  full  length  on  wagon  seats, 
lazily  watching  the  play  of  light  and  shadow  on  the 
scene  in  front. 

They  were  evidently  just  finishing  supper,  as  some  of 


THE     GUN- BEARER.  121 

them  still  held  half-emptied  dippers  of  coffee ;  while 
others,  with  pipes  already  lighted,  were  enjoying  a 
quiet  smoke.  Somebody  was  saying  as  we  came 
up: 

"  It 's  surprising  how  well  they  do  feed  us  !" 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  another,  "  there  's  many  a  poor 
chap  in  the  army,  doing  garrison  duty  at  some  fort, 
struggling  with  salt  horse  and  smacking  his  lips  over 
it ;  while  we,  always  on  the  move,  get  fresh  beef,"  and 
the  speaker  jerked  the  coffee  dregs  out  of  his  dipper 
under  the  wagon  behind  me.  "  But,  hello !  Who 
comes  here?" 

All  eyes  were  instantly  turned  toward  us,  and  one 
man,  while  he  gazed  at  us  inquiringly,  said,  in  reply  to 
the  last  speaker  : 

"  Yes,  and  we  are  goin'  to  have  it  right  along  !  The 
old  man  "  [meaning  Sherman]  "  knows  enough  to  keep 
communication  with  his  base  of  supplies  and  good  food 
coming  forward  all  the  time."  Then  to  us,  while  he 
puffed  hard  at  a  short  clay  pipe  :  "  Reckon  you  belong 
to  that  new  regiment,  don't  you  ?" 

It  occurred  to  me  at  that  moment  that  I  had  never 
before  heard  so  harsh  a  voice. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  What  may  it  be  ?" 

"  Twelfth  Kentucky." 

"  What  division  ?" 

"  Cox's,"  said  Fred. 

"  That 's  the  Twenty-third  Corps,  Scofield's  !" 

"  You  're  right,"  we  answered. 

"  Have  some  coffee  ?" 

"  No,  been  to  supper,"  responded  Fred. 

We  advanced  to  the  fire,  took  positions  that  suited  us 
best,  and  opened  on  the  mule  drivers  with  our  questions, 
Jake  being  the  first  to  speak, 


122  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  What  's  goin'  on  ?  Why  are  you  all  here  ?"  he  asked 
with  his  usual  drawl,  addressing  no  one  in  particular. 

Two  or  three  made  ready  to  reply,  but  he  of  the 
harsh  voice  and  the  obstinate  pipe,  anticipating  the 
others,  replied  : 

"  You,  see,  the  old  man's  got  things  about  right  to 
begin  work,  and  he  's  begun.  Ain't  he,  boys  ?" 

"  Yes,"  one  or  two  voices  replied,  and  one  pleasant- 
voiced  fellow  near  me  continued,  this  time  getting  the 
start  of  the  harsh  voice  : 

"  One  fine  morning,  two  days  ago,  the  boys  got  orders 
to  lay  in  ten  days'  rations,  and  started  off  ;  they  left  all 
the  baggage  wagons  here." 

"They  "11  be  back  in  about  four  days,"  interrupted 
the  harsh  voice. 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,"  said  the  pleasant  voice. 
"  They  won't  be  back  here  for  some  time.  Old  Sher- 
man is  goin'  to  push  the  Johnnies,  as  they  were  never 
pushed  before." 

"  How  many  men  are  there  with  Sherman  ?"  asked 
Fred. 

"  Some  say  one  figure,  and  some  another,  but  they 
all  fix  it  about  one  hundred  thousand." 

"Is  this  all  the  baggage  there  is?"  I  asked  with  a 
surprised  look  at  the  little  groups  of  wagons. 

"That  's  what  it  is,  baggages  for  the  whole  army, 
'cept  what  the  company  mules  took." 

"  How  is  that  ?"  I  asked  ;  but,  feeling  immediately 
that  this  was  a  question  calculated  to  show  my  ignor- 
ance, I  glanced  at  Fred's  face  to  see  if  he  disapproved 
of  it.  Judge  of  my  silent  relief  when  I  saw  plainly 
that  he  was  as  much  in  the  dark  as  I  had  been. 

"  You  see,"  said  our  pleasant  friend  in  explanation, 
"each  company  has  a  mule  and  a  darkey  to  drive  it,  and 
between  the  two  they  carry  all  the  cooking  things." 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  123 

**  Oh,  I  tell  you,"  said  the  harsh  voice,  "  the  old  man 
knows  how  to  save  lugging,  and  they  do  say  that  the 
boys  have  better  fixin's  than  the  general  officers." 

"  But  where  's  our  division  ?"  asked  Fred  of  a  soldier 
between  him  and  me. 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  the  man  addressed  ;  then,  taking 
his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  cried  : 

"Say,  Bill,  where 's  Scofield  and  the  Twenty-third 
Corps  ?  Down  at  the  Roost  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Bill,  from  the  other  side  of  the  fire. 

"  Well,  Bill,  you  are  wrong  for  once,"  said  somebody 
at  my  elbow,  who  up  to  this  time  had  taken  no  part  in 
the  conversation.  Noticing  how  the  others  stopped  to 
listen  to  what  more  this  quiet  man  might  say,  I  con- 
cluded that  he  must  be  the  wagonmaster,  as  he  was 
looked  upon  as  an  authority. 

"  Wrong,  am  I  ?"  cried  Bill.  "  What  did  that  darkey 
say  who  came  in  last  night  ?  Didn't  he  say  that  the 
rebs  held  the  Gap  and  our  boys  were  marching  up 
to  it?" 

"  Certainly,"  the  quiet  man  assented. 

"  Then  what 's  the  matter  with  what  I  said  ?"  asked 
Bill  in  an  aggrieved  tone. 

"  Oh,  dry  up,  Bill,"  cried  several  voices  in  a  chorus. 

"  The  boys  want  to  find  their  division.  Let  the  boss 
tell  'em  where  it  is.  He  knows  more  about  it  than  you 
do." 

"What  is  this  Buzzard's  Roost,  and  where  is  it?" 
asked  Fred  of  the  wagonmaster,  to  change  the  conver- 
sation. 

"  The  Roost  is  a  cliff,  and  overlooks  a  deep  gap  which 
divides  the  ridge  of  Rocky  Face,  and  lies  away  off  down 
yonder  to  the  southeast "  [pointing  in  that  direction] 
"  about  fifteen  miles  or  such  a  matter.  The  Rocky  Face 
Ridge  is  a  chain  of  break-neck  hills  several  miles  long, 


124  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

and  running  north  and  south.  Dalton,  which  I  make 
out  is  Sherman's  present  objective  point,  is  just  in 
behind  the  south  end  of  this  ridge.  The  rebels  are 
now  using  this  ridge  as  a  fort,  and  they  are  spread  out 
along  the  top  of  it  the  whole  length  ;  and  at  the  north 
end  they  turn  off  to  the  east  at  right  angles  and  spread 
out  across  a  railroad  that  runs  into  Dalton  on  the  other 
side  of  Rocky  Face.  They  have  centered  in  one  or  two 
places,  and  the  Roost  is  one  of  them." 

"  That's  all  right  enough,"  cried  Bill,  "but  to  get  at 
Dalton  without  leaving  the  railroad,  we  've  got  to  drive 
the  rebs  away  from  Buzzard's  Roost  so  tfiat  we  can 
follow  the  other  railroad  through  the  Gap." 

"  That 's  what  Thomas  is  trying  to  do.  You  see," 
said  the  wagonmaster  turning  to  us,  "  this  railroad,  that 
runs  through  Ringgold,  enters  Dalton  through  the  Gap 
in  Rocky  Face,  under  Buzzard's  Roost,  and  Thomas  is 
down  there  with  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland,  the 
Fourth,  Fourteenth  and  Twentieth  Army  Corps,  trying 
his  prettiest  to  get  through,  judging  by  the  firing  we 
heard  this  morning." 

"  But  isn't  the  Army  of  the  Ohio  there,  too  ?"  ques- 
tioned Bill. 

"  Of  course  not.  You  ought  to  know  that.  We  've 
not  seen  anything  of  that  corps  yet,  and  we  would 
have  had  sight  of  it  if  it  had  gone  down.  Besides,  two 
days  ago,  which  was  before  Thomas's  army  left  here, 
Scofield,  with  the  Twenty-third  Corps,  was  at  Red  Clay, 
a  long  stretch  off  to  the  northeast ;  but  I  heard  them 
say  that  when  Thomas  moved  from  here  to  Tunnel 
Hill — a  hill  between  the  Ridge  and  the  Roost,  so  called 
because  the  railroad  tunneled  it — Scofield  came  just  over 
the  hills  yonder  "  [pointing  behind  him  to  the  north- 
east] "  to  Catoosa  Springs.  Now,  I  reckon,  he  's  spread 
put  in  line  about  east  of  here,  facing  the  south,  and 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  125 

trying  to  force  that  wing  of  the  rebs,  which  I  told  you 
runs  out  east  from  Rocky  Face." 

"  Then,  to  reach  our  corps,"  said  Fred,  "  we  must 
leave  the  railroad  and  start  off  across  the  country  to 
the  east  ?" 

"  That  's  about  it,"  the  quiet  man  assented,  "  if  you 
want  to  go  right  away ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  you  '11  meet 
them  in  an  easier  way.  McPherson,  with  the  Army  of 
the  Tennessee,  is  far  away  to  the  south,  a  long  piece 
beyond  Thomas's,  and  you  may  be  sure  he  is  there  for 
a  purpose.  If  you  start  off  down  the  railroad  to- 
morrow, I  shouldn't  wonder  if,  by  the  time  you  arrive 
near  the  Roost,  you  should  find  that  Thomas  had  al- 
ready pushed  through.  In  that  case  you  '11  be  pretty 
sure  to  meet  your  corps  somewhere  on  the  road  ;  either 
on  this  or  the  other  side  of  Buzzard's  Roost  Gap!  Ac- 
cording as  they  march  into  Dalton  direct  from  where 
they  are  now  or  come  around  to  this  side  of  Rocky 
Face  and  follow  this  railroad  in." 

"  Well,"  drawled  Jake,  with  a  yawn  and  a  stare  of 
amazement  at  the  wagonmaster,  "  it  is  pretty  evident 
that  there  is  something  goin'  on,  and  I  guess  we'll  get 
our  share  of  it ;  but  I  am  dead  tired,  and  going  to  turn 
in." 

"  Oh,  you'll  be  in  the  thick  of  it  before  long,  make  no 
mistake,"  some  one  cried  laughingly  after  him  as  he 
went  away. 

Fred  and  I  stayed  but  a  short  time  to  finish  our  pipes, 
and  then  we  also  turned  in. 

It  was  very  strange  how  all  my  ideas  of  war  had 
changed  since  my  joining  the  regiment.  This  was  due 
to  the  fact  that  my  companions  were  veterans.  Hearing 
them  talk  so  much  of  their  battles,  a  feeling  of  contempt 
for  danger  began  to  pervade  me  ;  then,  too,  when  I  first 
joined  the  regiment,  I  had  an  indefinite  idea  that  there 


126  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

would  be  firing  and  bloodshed  right  away.  I  lived  in 
daily  expectation  of  it ;  but,  as  days  passed,  and,  much 
to  my  surprise,  nothing  of  the  kind  occurred,  this  feel- 
ing of  suspense  gradually  yielded  to  one  of  indifference. 

I  had  been  wearing  the  blue  for  three  months,  and  no 
sign  of  the  enemy' had  I  seen  or  heard,  except  the  hur- 
ried shots  in  the  dark  at  Raccoon  Bottom.  And  now  I 
half  expected  to  be  cheated  out  of  my  glory,  or  that, 
when  it  did  come,  it  would  not  realize  my  expecta- 
tions. 

I  do  not  remember  that  I  ever  slept  more  soundly  than 
I  did  that  night,  under  the  little  five-by-six  tent  in  Ring- 
gold,  by  the  side  of  the  baggage  of  Sherman's  whole 
army,  on  the  eve  of  the  campaign  against  Atlanta. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

Monday  morning  dawned  fair.  Our  little  camp  was 
broken  early  and,  after  several  hours  consumed  in  serv- 
ing out  rations,  we  were  again  in  marching  trim.  From 
this  time  forth  we  were  going  forward  like  other  regi- 
ments, prepared  for  days  of  hard  fighting  and  forced 
marches,  and  where  the  opportunities  for  foraging 
would  be  few  and  far  between.  The  cool  part  of  the 
forenoon  had  passed  before  we  were  able  to  move,  so 
that  when  we  did  leave  Ringgold  and  the  baggage- 
wagons  the  sun  was  high  and  shining  hot  upon  our 
heads. 

Beside  the  heat  of  the  sun  there  were  added  to  our 
other  discomforts  the  extra  rations,  which  were  a  load 
in  themselves,  and  the  fact  that  we  were  hurried  along 
without  the  usual  frequent  halts.  Under  these  condi- 
tions we  had  put  miles  behind  us  before  we  saw  the 
head  of  the  column  break  and  scatter  to  rest  by  the 
roadside. 

"  Here,"  cried  Fred,  when  the  halt  was  called,  and 
running,  as  fast  as  his  weary  legs  could  carry  him,  to  a 
little  grass-covered  knoll  about  one  hundred  feet  from 
the  road — "  here 's  a  good  place." 

But  I  was  already  at  his  side,  throwing  off  my  accou- 
terments  previous  to  stretching  myself  at  length  on 
the  dusty  but  welcome  grass. 

£127] 


128  THE     GUN-BEARER 

"  This  has  been  the  worst  day  yet,"  I  said,  throwing" 
myself  down  by  the  side  of  my  cousin  and  pillowing 
my  head  on  my  blankets. 

"  Boom  !" 

"  Hello  !  what  's  that — thunder  ?"  asked  Fred,  ex- 
citedly, scanning  the  sky  as  he  raised  himself  with  a 
jerk  to  his  elbow  and  listened  intently. 

"  It  sounded  to  me  like  a  salute  being  fired  from  a 
gun,  far  away,"  I  replied. 

"  Boom  !  Boom  !" 

"  That  's  a  fight  for  sure,  and  at  Buzzard's  Roost," 
said  Jake,  eagerly,  who  had  also  raised  himself  on  his 
elbow  to  listen. 

"  Reckon  you  're  right,"  responded  Fred,  as  he  re- 
sumed a  prostrate  position.  "  Well,  we  '11  be  into  it 
soon  enough.  It  's  so  long  since  I  Ve  heard  a  gun  that 
thunder  was  the  first  idea  which  that  firing  put  into 
my  head." 

I  lay  for  a  few  moments  listening  to  this  distant 
booming  of  cannon  and  then  sat  up  to  see  what  the 
veterans  thought  of  it.  But  they  seemed  quiet  and, 
for  the  most  part,  indifferent ;  many  of  them,  indeed, 
were  already  asleep.  Only  a  few,  here  and  there,  gave 
the  incident  special  attention  and  then,  merely,  to  shout 
to  some  particular  comrade  that  it  sounded  like  old 
times  or  to  make  some  similar  remark. 

"  Boom  !  Boom  !  Boom  !" 

I  listened  earnestly,  vainly  trying  to  interpret  those 
voices  of  war ;  as  if  perchance  they  might  tell  me 
which  side  was  speaking  at  that  moment  and  with  what 
effect.  The  sound  was  low-toned  and  drawn  out  by 
the  distance,  lonesome,  and  like  a  note  of  warning  ;  but 
it  seemed  innocent  enough  to  me,  and  try  as  I  would  I 
could  not  connect  it  with  battle  or  bloodshed. 

There  was  an  air  of  excitement  and  threatening  in 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  129 

it,  but  to  me  it  awakened  no  personal  experience,  pre- 
sented no  picture  of  men  falling  dead  in  heaps.  It  was 
to  me  the  beginning  of  a  new  experience  ;  the  first  few 
drops  of  a  protracted  storm  into  which  I  was  about  to 
enter.  Who  could  predict  how  I  should  come  out  of  it  ? 

For  some  time  we  lay  and  listened  to  the  sounds 
which  came  to  us — sometimes  singly,  then  in  groups, 
and  again  in  confusion — until  the  cry,  "  Fall  in  !" 
brought  us  once  more  to  a  sense  of  the  present. 

Hour  after  hour  we  plodded  on,  the  sounds  of  battle 
becoming  louder  and  more  and  more  distinct,  until  Fred 
said  he  thought  he  could  hear  infantry. 

I  could  not  tell,  although  I  stopped  to  listen.  For  me 
there  was  only  a  confused  roar  of  sounds,  some  louder 
than  others,  but  I  did  not  know  enough  at  that  time  to 
distinguish  the  different  reports  ;  later,  however,  as  we 
lessened  the  distance  to  the  conflict,  I  was  aware  that 
the  intervals  between  the  roar  of  cannon  were  filled 
with  lesser  noises,  which  the  initiated  recognized  and 
pronounced  musketry. 

At  last  we  reached  an  elevation  not  far  from  Tunnel 
Hill,  and  from  this  point  saw,  rising  like  a  wall  before 
us,  but  still  far  away  across  the  valley,  the  rugged,  pre- 
cipitous sides  of  Rocky  Face  Ridge,  full  of  such  lights 
and  shadows  as  are  made  by  ravines  and  jutting  ledges. 
There  was  also  a  lofty,  darkly-frowning  wall,  with  a 
crest  cut  out  in  rugged  peaks  and  hollows  that  stood  out 
in  clear  relief  against  the  blue  and  white  sky  beyond. 

To  the  left,  directly  across  the  valley  from  where  we 
stood,  the  ridge  came  to  an  end,  sinking  rapidly  to  a 
much  lower  level ;  but  away  to  the  right  there  seemed 
to  be  no  limit,  and  the  ridge  in  this  direction  extended 
away  off  until  it  met  the  sky.  Even  the  gateway  in  the 
Gap,  under  Buzzard's  Roost,  was  not  visible,  as  we  were 
not  in  a  position  to  see  through  it.  • 


130  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

We  could  determine,  from  what  the  wagonmaster 
had  told  us,  where  it  should  be,  by  a  little  sharper 
indentation  in  the  outline,  by  heavier  shadows,  and 
because,  in  this  neighborhood,  the  smoke  of  the  battle 
seemed  to  be  the  thickest.  But  we  were  still  too  far 
away  to  distinguish  individuals.  Masses  of  men,  when 
not  concealed  in  the  shadows  of  trees,  were,  however, 
distinctly  visible.  We  could  see,  also,  the  flash  of  guns 
and  the  lasting  color  of  flags  moving  hither  and  thither, 
sometimes  shining  brightly  in  the  sunlight,  at  others 
almost  vanishing  in  shadow  or  in  smoke. 

The  crest  of  the  ridge  occupied  by  the  Confederates, 
from  the  north  end,  nearest  us,  and  away  to  the  south, 
as  far  as  we  could  see,  was  alive  with  men  and  spark- 
ling with  fire,  while  from  every  shadowy  ravine  that 
scarred  the  sides  of  Rocky  Face  our  troops  were  send- 
ing out  flashes  in  reply ;  and  from  the  whole  surface 
thin  wreaths  of  smoke  .were  rising  and  drifting  off 
among  the  leaves  and  blasted  .tree-tops,  just  as  I  have 
seen  the  steam  creeping  up  from  the  shingles  of  our 
cottage  roof,  wet  from  melted  snow. 

As  we  have  been  told,  the  Roost  was  the  center  of 
attack.  There  was  the  meeting-place  and  crash  of 
battle.  Heavy  banks  of  smoke  were  floating  away 
from  this  section,  and  the  air  above  was  dotted  with 
fleecy  puffs  of  smoke  from  bursting  shell. 

It  was  a  sight  full  of  grandeur,  and  terrible — to  me, 
at  least — was  its  import. 

My  heart  for  a  moment  stood  still,  but  the  intoxica- 
tion of  such  excitement  was  not  to  be  resisted,  and  it 
resumed  its  beating  with  such  force  that  the  blood 
surged  to  my  finger-tips.  I  would  have  rushed  wildly 
to  take  part  in  the  struggle  had  not  the  distance  and 
the  calmer  actions  of  others  restrained  me. 

I  looked  in  the  faces  of  my  companions  ;  there  was 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  131 

fire  in  every  eye,  buoyant  firmness  in  every  step,  as 
steadily,  surely,  but  not  one  second  faster,  they  marched 
on  and  on.  Despite  the  impatience  burning-  in  their 
hearts,  their  movements  were  as  orderly  and  methodical, 
and  their  bearing  as  unchanged,  as  if  the  battle  smoke 
were  harmless  mist  and  the  roar  of  guns  but  the  wind 
moaning  among  the  trees. 

But  as  we  advance  with  eyes  fixed  on  the  scene  of 
strife,  the  sun  sets,  the  firing  gradually  slackens,  ceases, 
and  the  battle  is  over ;  and  when,  as  night  fell,  we 
reached  the  rear  of  our  lines,  instead  of  fitful  flashes, 
the  steady  blaze  of  numberless  camp-fires  lit  up  the 
scene. 

About  these  fires  thousands  and  thousands  of  tired 
soldiers  were  gathered,  each  telling  his  own  story  of 
the  battle. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

There  are  those  ever  ready  with  brilliant  pens  and 
standing  far  enough  removed  from  any  corporeal  in- 
terest, if  such  expression  be  permitted  concerning  the 
strife  of  those  two  great  armies  camped  so  near  to- 
gether, who  might  have  grasped  the  scene  on  that  first 
night  we  pitched  our  tents  with  Sherman's  army,  and 
from  their  serene  point  of  view  have  given  a  lucid 
bird's-eye  view  of  the  whole  situation.  I  saw  what  was 
in  my  neighborhood  only. 

They  would  have  painted  in  well-chosen  phrases  the 
picture  of  that  long  valley,  lying  to  the  west  along  the 
base  of  Rocky  Face,  all  sparkling  with  union  camp 
fires,  in  the  light  of  which  were  to  be  seen  horses,  cais- 
sons, cannon  and  tents  and  men,  everywhere.  Men  hard 
at  work  as  were  the  surgeons  about  the  blazing  fires  of 
the  field  hospitals  ;  men  as  couriers  hurrying  with  dis- 
patches from  camp  to  camp ;  men  at  rest,  as  most  of 
them  were,  grouped  about  the  fires  or  dozing  far  apart 
beneath  the  trees. 

Mill  creek  would  have  been  sketched  as  a  muddy 
little  stream,  hedged  on  either  side  by  a  thicket  of  bush 
and  creeping  gloomily,  stealthily  along  by  the  side  of 
our  camp  to  pass  beneath  Buzzard's  Roost  into  the 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  133 

Confederate  lines,  unseen,  except  where  in  a  few  places 
our  fires  extended  to  its  bank,  and  reddened  it  with  their 
reflection. 

Beyond  this,  it  would  have  been  noted  that  Rocky 
Face  Ridge  reared  its  ponderous  mass,  blacker  than 
the  night  itself,  until  the  eye  of  the  observer  reached 
the  top,  which  sparkled  and  scintillated  with  hostile 
fires — all  in  striking  contrast  to  the  blinking  stars  and 
slowly-drifting  clouds  above. 

But  the  enemy  did  not  have  all  of  that  long  ridge  to 
themselves.  Our  boys  had  fought  that  day  to  some 
purpose.  They  had  won  their  way  a  little  distance,  at 
least,  up  its  craggy  sides,  among  the  rocks  and  stunted 
trees.  The  northern  slopes  were  ours,  and  we,  camping 
near  this  upper  end  while  eating  supper,  cast  many 
wondering,  curious  glances  along  that  line  of  friendly 
fires,  following  it  away  up  the  slope  to  where  it  stopped 
and  a  broad  belt  of  darkness  separated  it  from  the 
enemy. 

These  fires  seemed  to  beckon  us  ;  and  when  our  meal 
was  over,  and  it  was  arranged  that  some  of  us  might 
leave  camp,  my  fatigue  vanished  and  I  joined  Fred  and 
two  or  three  others  who  were  going  on  a  tour  of  in- 
vestigation. 

As  we  climbed  the  hill  our  attention  was  attracted  by 
one  especially  brilliant  fire.  We  found  about  it  the 
usual  camp  scene,  men  lounging  about,  sipping  coffee, 
smoking  and  chatting,  while  some  were  cleaning  their 
weapons.  The  excitement  of  the  late  struggle  seemed 
to  have  disappeared  with  its  smoke  and  grime,  for  these 
men  conversed  in  low,  quiet  tones. 

The  hands  that  poured  the  coffee  or  lit  the  pipes 
were  steady  enough  ;  it  was  only  in  the  nervous,  re- 
strained laugh  that  they  betrayed  any  trace  of  the 
excitement  of  the  day. 


134  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

As  we  advanced  into  the  light  and  drew  near  the  fire 
we  were  greeted  with  : 

"  In  the  advance  to-day  ?" 

"  No,"  we  answered. 

"  What  regiment  ?" 

"Twelfth  Kentucky." 

"  That 's  a  fightin'  regiment.  Part  of  Reilly's  old 
brigade  ?" 

"  Yes,"  Fred  remarked  in  a  quiet  way,  in  answer. 

"  S'pose  you  had  a  taste  of  tumblin'  over  the  rocks 
like  the  rest  of  us  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Fred  ;  "  we  're  only  just  from  Ringgold." 

"What !"  exclaimed  our  interrogator.  "  The  Twelfth 
Kentucky,  and  not  in  a  fight  ?" 

"  This  is  the  time  we  missed  it.  We  veteranized  a 
couple  of  months  ago,  had  a  furlough,  and  have  only 
just  now  turned  up  for  another  three  years." 

"  Well,  that  beats  me  !  The  Twelfth  Kentucky  and 
not —  Oh,  well,  you  're  here  early  enough.  Been  to 
supper  ?  Have  ?  Well,  take  some  coffee  with  us,  any- 
how. Here  you,  Fattie  "  [to  a  veteran,  who  seemed  to 
have  the  coffee-pot  under  his  special  charge],  "pass  these 
comrades  some  coffee." 

Fattie,  who  was  tall  and  as  thin  as  a  rail,  duly  obeyed, 
handing  us  the  boiling-hot,  inky,  aromatic  fluid  in 
blackened,  dented  cups. 

We  sat  down  by  the  fire,  sipped  the  coffee  and  soon 
learned  that  the  regiment  to  which  this  group  belonged 
was  part  of  Newton's  Division  of  the  Fourth  Army 
Corps,  and  that  they  had  been  in  a  skirmishing  line  all 
day. 

In  answer  to  a  question  as  to  what  they  had  done 
that  day,  one  emphatic  man  they  called  Sandy  cried  : 

"  What  have  we  done  ?  Look  you  f  You  see  those  camp 
fires  down  there  ?"  pointing  to  the  valley.  "  Well,  they 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  135 

have  not  moved.  They  were  there  in  the  same  place 
last  night ;  but  here,  last  night  the  rebs  slept.  We 
drove  'em  out  to-day,  we  did.  It  cost  us  heavy,  but  we 
did  it." 

"  You  're  right,  it  cost  us  heavy,"  said  another  voice. 
"  How  they  picked  us  off  !  But  what  a  charge  that  was 
over  such  a  mass  of  loose  rock,  and  in  the  face  of  such 
a  fire.  Pratt  and  Sager  fell  first,  away  down  in  the 
bottom  yonder,  just  after  we  started.  While  we  were 
running  up  Magoun,  just  to  the  left  of  me,  stumbled  on 
a  tilting  rock.  I  had  to  laugh  to  see  him  run  along  on  all 
fours  before  he  could  recover.  But  he  had  only  just 
got  straightened  up,  poor  fellow,  when  over  he  went 
for  good.  That  brought  Ripley  next  to  me  in  the  line, 
but  we  hadn't  gone  a  dozen  rods  together  when  he  cried 
out :  '  Oh,  Bill !'  and  dropped.  Clark,  Kelley  and  Booth 
fell  at  the  same  time  just  about  here  ;  and  just  on  the 
edge  of  the  ridge  out  yonder,  we  left  the  orderly  and 
Tom  Cranford — and  I  know  there  was  a  heap  more 
from  some  of  the  other  companies  dropped  in  the  same 
place." 

"  What,  did  you  get  much  further  up  ?"  asked  Fred. 

"  You  bet  we  did,"  he  replied,  "  and  our  pickets  are 
out  there  now,  I  reckon,  but  it  costs,  it  costs,  just  as 
Sandy  says.  They  dropped  us  along  here  pretty  thick, 
and  it  got  to  be  mighty  lonesome  before  we  came  to  the 
end  of  the  race." 

"  Lonesome,"  echoed  the  deep-toned  voice  of  a  gray- 
bearded  Illinoisan.  "  You  were  all  together  when  you 
started  out  of  the  woods  below,  on  that  double  quick 
up  the  hill,  a-dodging  from  stump  to  rock,  and  from 
rock  to  tree,  but  I  was  away  out  on  the  left  of  the  line 
and,  somehow,  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do,  I  kept  getting 
farther  and  farther  away  from  you,  and  edging  toward 
the  gulley  which  separated  us  from  Company  H.  No 


136  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

mistake  about  it,  the  Johnnies  were  too  many  for  me. 
Shot  and  shell  were  falling  like  rain  out  there,  and  the 
ground  was  getting  a  terrible  sweeping."  He  paused 
as  though  to  put  back  the  thoughts  that  were  crowding 
upon  him,  but  as  the  rest  of  us  waited  for  him  to  con- 
tinue, he  took  up  the  story  again. 

"  While  I  tried  to  get  back  into  my  old  spot,  a  piece 
of  shell  struck  my  gunstock,  knocked  it  into  splinters, 
and  laid  me  flat  as  a  pancake.  I  thought  I  was  done 
for.  Oh,  you  needn't  smile,  you  fellows,  you  have  been 
through  the  same  thing  yourselves,  but  I  soon  found 
out  what  the  trouble  was,  and  that  I  was  not  hurt  much. 
Of  course,  I  was  no  good  without  a  gun,  and  so  I  held 
back  until  I  could  get  one.  In  a  few  minutes  a  fellow 
just  ahead  of  me,  threw  up  his  hands  and  fell  backward. 
This  was  my  chance  and  I  soon  had  the  gun  he  dropped. 
'T  was  barber  Jim,"  [falteringly]  "  you  all  know  him — of 
Company  H — Jim,  when  I  reached  him,  was  trying  to 
cover  with  his  hand  a  hole  in  his  breast  that  looked  al- 
most large  enough  to  put  your  fist  in.  The  blood  was 
running  out  between  his  fingers,  and  such  a  pitiful  look 
as  poor  Jim  gave  me,  as  I  took  up  his  rifle  and  hurried 
away.  I  tell  you  what,  boys,"  [and  the  bronzed  face  of 
the  speaker  beamed  on  the  upturned  faces  around  him] 
"  I  'm  right  glad  to  get  back  to  the  company  again. 
I  Ve  been  in  a  good  many  skirmish  lines  before,  but 
never  in  one  when  I  was  so  blamed  lonesome  as  to-day." 

"  Begorra,  and  its  meself  that 's  always  lonesome  in  a 
skirmish,"  observed  one  of  the  listeners.  "  Sure,  there  's 
no  fun  in  it  at  all,  at  all ;  a  man  's  always  alone  in  such 
work,  wid  divil  a  sowl  near  him.  I  always  feel  as  if 
every  Johnnie  had  his  murtherin'  eye  on  me.  By  the 
same  token,  it  's  Pat  Cragin  that  would  rather  be  at 
home  carrying  the  hod,  than  standing  up  and  stoppin1 
bullets  for  the  rebs.  Holy  Mother,  there  's  the  liftinint, 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  137 

and  him  we  left  on  the  crust  up  yonder  wid  a  hole  in 
his  head."  , 

"  Only  stunned  a  little,  that's  all,"  quietly  observed 
the  officer,  who  at  this  moment  emerged  from  the  dark- 
ness beyond,  and  was  passing  near  enough  to  be  seen 
by  the  light  of  the  fire. 

"Sure  it 's  meself  that 's  glad  to  hear  you  say  so," 
answered  Pat ;  and,  as  our  little  group  watched  the 
officer  until  he  disappeared  in  the  darkness,  he  con- 
tinued, speaking  lower  :  "  There  goes  a  foine  officer  ; 
divil  a  better  ever  drew  a  sword  or  led  a  charge.  If  he 
ever  gets  his  min  into  trouble,  bedad,  but  he  's  the  boy 
that  can  get  them  out.  I  like  him  better  'n  I  did  the 
cap'n,  poor  felly." 

After  this  there  was  a  moment  of  silence,  for  Cragin's 
homely  words  had  struck  responsive  chords  in  many 
breasts,  and  afterward  the  talk  became  general.  While 
many  little  dialogues  were  passing  among  the  boys  who 
had  come  up  with  me  and  the  soldiers  about  the  camp-fire, 
I  turned  to  Cragin,  who  was  sitting  just  at  my  left,  and 
asked  if  he  thought  there  would  be  any  fighting  the 
next  day. 

"  Fittin',  is  it  ?  Faith,  'nd  ye  may  just  count  on  that 
same.  We'll  skirmish  to-morrow,  just  as  we  did  to-day. 
Sure,  we  're  only  keepin'  the  Johnnies  busy  till 
McPherson  has  a  chance  to  get  in  his  work  ;  that 's  him 
down  there,"  said  Cragin,  in  explanation,  pointing  away 
out  over  the  landscape  into  the  darkness. 

"  Where  ?"  I  asked,  trying  to  follow  the  direction 
indicated. 

"  The  light  from  the  fire  's  too  glaring  to  see  it  well. 
Just  shade  your  eyes  at  the  side  a  bit  and  look  down 
there.  Do  you  see  a  red  glare  in  the  sky  ?" 

"  I  think  I  do." 

"  Well,  that  's  him,  and  them  's  McPherson's  camp- 


138  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

fires  that 's  reddenin'  the  clouds  !  The  old  man  wants 
McPherson  or  some  of  'em  to  get  round  into  the  rear 
of  the  rebs.  The  divil  fly  away  wid  'em.  It  takes 
a  power  of  marching  to  satisfy  Sherman  ;  but,  begorra, 
it  is  the  kind  of  marching  that  counts  and  makes  the 
inimy  skedaddle  all  the  same  !" 

It  was  a  comfort  for  me  to  hear  that  tramping  paid, 
and  that  it  was  bringing  about  the  desired  result.  But 
what  did  that  result  signify  to  those  who  had  that  day 
fallen  ?  This  was  the  question  I  pondered.  However 
great  the  importance  of  this  movement  might  be  to 
Sherman  and  to  the  country,  my  mind  refused  to  leave 
my  individual  prospects.  I  could  see  myself  an  actor  in 
just  such  scenes  as  had  been  described.  Henceforth,  until 
the  end,  I  was  to  be  one  of  those  who  must  do  not  only 
the  marching  but  the  skirmishing. 

How  long  would  it  be  before  I  should  find  myself 
enveloped  in  that  leaden  storm  ?  How  much  time 
might  there  be  left  me  to  think  of  home  and  of  those  I 
loved  ?  How  long  would  it  be  before  Fred  or  Jake  or 
some  others  of  my  company  about  their  camp-fires 
might  speak  of  me  as  these  soldiers  spoke  of  poor 
Tom  Cranf ord  ?"  We  left  him  just  out  on  the  ridge 
yonder." 

"  Where  were  you  to-day  ?"  asked  Cragin,  interrupting 
my  melancholy  dreaming.  "  What  part  of  the  line  were 
yon  in  ?"  and  he  looked  at  me  from  cap  to  shoes,  as  if  it 
had  just  occurred  to  him  that  not  only  was  I  a  stranger, 
but  that  my  uniform  was  in  pretty  good  condition  for  a 
veteran. 

I  did  not  care  to  admit  that  I  had  never  been  under 
fire,  at  least  where  I  could  stand  up  and  face  it,  and  so 
replied  that  we  were  not  in  the  engagement  but  had 
been  marching  all  day. 

"  Well,"  replied  Cragin,  "  that 's  just  the  same  wid 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  139 

Sherman — some  's  fightin*  and  some 's  marchin',  but  it 
all  counts." 

Before  a  second  opportunity  occurred  to  question 
me,  Fred  and  I  walked  away  and  approached  another 
fire,  where  another  group  were  listening  to  a  soldier 
describing  his  experience. 

He  was  saying : 

"  We  kept  a  mighty  good  line,  though  I  never  saw 
men  fight  harder  than  those  fellows  did  on  the  right. 
Every  time  I  looked  in  that  direction  I  saw  their  ram- 
rods twirling  above  their  heads.  They  were  regular 
killers ;  at  work  by  the  day ;  just  as  if  the  boss  was 
standing  over  them.  And  then  the  charge  !  Boys, 
they  put  such  things  down  in  history."  Then,  after  a 
pause,  during  which  his  companions  sat  staring  at  the 
burning  logs,  trying  to  realize  the  glory  of  it  after  the 
fire  had  left  their  blood,  he  added  :  "  But  I  do  not  be- 
lieve it  was  ever  intended.  It  looked  to  me,  then,  and 
I  think  so  now,  that  sombody  lost  his  head  when  he 
ordered  both  the  first  and  second  charge.  The  idea  of 
charging  in  a  place  like  this,  with  the  chances  all  in 
favor  of  the  other  side.  Sherman  don't  do  business  in 
that  way.  I  tell  you,  somebody  blundered,  and  this  is 
not  the  first  time,  either.  I  hope  there  won't  be  any 
more  mistakes  to-morrow."* 

I  fervently  echoed  this  wish,  and  we  went  back  to 
our  own  camp.  I  had  seen  something  of  the  day's 
fight,  had  heard  the  booming  of  the  guns  and  the  rattle 
of  musketry,  and  there  was  an  awful,  fascinating  real- 
ism in  these  simple  stories. 

As  I  rolled  myself  up  in  my  blankets  on  the  ground 

*  "The  orders  were  not  to  waste  life  in  serious  assault  upon  intreneh- 
ments,  hut  the  zeal  of  the  troops  and  subordinate  commanders  turned  the 
intended  skirmish  iuto  something  very  like  a  ranged  battle,  and  the  Con- 
federate reports  state  that  five  separate  and  regular  assaults  were  made  on 
their  lines."— Cotfs  Atlanta. 


140  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

and  tried  to  sleep,  my  brain  was  in  a  whirl.  I  seemed 
to  hear  the  heavy  tramp  of  armies,  the  ringing  cheers 
of  charging  infantry,  the  roar  of  artillery,  the  shriek  of 
shell,  the  groans  of  wounded,  dying  men  ;  and  then  I 
thought  myself  all  that  was  left  of  an  unsupported  line 
of  skirmishers.  The  army  to  which  I  belonged  had 
fallen  back ;  the  enemy  were  advancing  ;  my  com- 
panions had  been  picked  off,  one  by  one,  until  I  stood 
alone,  a  target  for  a  thousand  rifles.  Unable  to  move, 
and  realizing  I  was  dreaming,  yet  powerless  to  break 
the  spell,  I  stood  and  waited  for  the  end  that  I  knew 
must  come,  when  I  was  roused  to  consciousness  by 
Fred,  who  said : 

"  Seems  to  me  you  dropped  to  sleep  mighty  quick. 
The  colonel  has  come.  I  got  it  from  Black  Lige.  He 
says  the  colonel  's  all  broke  up  about  the  horses  ;  that 
he  tried  to  get  'em,  and  tried  hard  ;  that  he  left  Point 
Burnside  for  that  purpose  ;  but  it's  no  go.  He  couldn't 
make  it  win.  Sherman  's  sorry  ;  but  the  change  in  the 
plans  for  the  movement  of  the  army  makes  it  impossi- 
ble. The  boys  are  satisfied  it's  all  straight,  and  don't 
care  now." 

I  was  too  tired,  too  sleepy,  to  exhibit  much  interest 
in  that  almost  forgotten  subject,  and  dozed  again.  The 
silence  and  darkness  deepened,  the  camp-fires  burned 
low,  and  yet  lower ;  the  forms  that  had  been  moving 
about  me  in  the  gloom  disappeared,  one  by  one.  I 
listened  a  moment  to  the  breeze  as  it  freshened  and 
died  away,  moaning  and  sighing  through  the  tree-tops, 
and  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Waking  shortly  after  daylight,  there  came  wafted  to 
me,  on  the  soft,  dewy  air  of  the  morning,  the  warbling 
notes  from  some  far-off  bugle,  sounding  the  reveille. 
An  instant  later,  another  bugle  repeated  the  call  more 
clearly.  Another  and  yet  another  brazen  throat  re- 
sponded, nearer  and  nearer  ;  and  now,  as  the  piping  of 
shrill-toned  fifes  and  the  heavy  rolling  of  drums  catch 
up  and  interpret  the  theme,  the  frowning  cliffs  of  Rocky 
Face  repeat  and  echo  the  medley  of  sounds  until  the 
air  vibrates  in  all  directions  with  martial  music. 

The  sputtering  crack  of  rifle  shots  from  along  the 
summit  of  the  ridge  and  the  thundering  of  artillery — 
which  had  again  opened  on  the  enemy — now  burst  in 
upon  the  chorus  and,  with  emphatic  accompaniment, 
announced  the  day's  work  fairly  begun. 

The  previous  evening  had  given  me  a  glimpse  of 
what  one  phase  of  my  experience  with  Sherman's  army 
was  to  be.  The  sounds  and  scenes  of  this  morning 
presented  the  prospect  to  me  from  another  point  of 
view. 

Everything  was  new,  strange  and  interesting ;  so 
different  from  the  quiet  camp  life  from  which  we  had 
come. 

Our  position  commanded  a  fine  view  of  the  plain, 


142  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

the  open  country  to  the  south  and  of  that  section  where 
a  part  of  our  army  was  concealed  in  the  thick 
forest. 

The  camps  before  us  were  springing  into  life.  Thou- 
sands of  smoke  columns  arose  from  plain  and  hill, 
mounted,  until,  caught  by  some  passing  current  of  air, 
they  bent  sidewise  and  floated  out  in  waving  pennants 
to  a  vanishing  point. 

Thousands  of  soldier-cooks  were  preparing  breakfast 
for  myriads  of  hungry  soldiers. 

Men  were  forming  into  companies  and  regiments  and 
brigades,  and  marching,  some  in  one  direction,  some  in 
another. 

Batteries  of  artillery  were  hurrying  off,  sometimes 
along  the  roads,  then  across  the  fields,  to  disappear 
beneath  the  thatch  of  distant  woods. 

Cavalrymen  passed  and  repassed,  leading  riderless 
horses  to  and  from  the  waters  of  Mill  Creek. 

Locomotive  whistles  announced  the  frequent  arrival 
of  provision  trains,  from  which  supply  wagons,  moving 
every  whither,  were  distributing  hard  tack,  pork,  coffee 
and  ammunition. 

Occasionally  a  bit  of  color  danced  and  waved  in  the 
sunlight  on  the  heights  above  us,  as  a  signal-flag  com- 
municated a  message  to  the  officers  below. 

We  caught,  now  and  then,  glimpses  of  our  troops  and 
of  the  enemy,  struggling  away  up  among  the  trees  and 
rocks  of  the  ridge,  while  over  all  thin  patches  of  light- 
blue  smoke  rose  from  the  woods  into  the  air  and  min- 
gling with  the  white  puffs  from  bursting  shell  drifted 
away  into  the  space  beyond. 

It  was  a  scene  and  a  morning  not  easily  to  be  for- 
gotten. 

It  seemed  hardly  possible  that  all  this  stir  and  bustle 
could  be  the  result  of  one  general's  planning,  or  that 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  143 

one  general  could  successfully  control  the  movements 
of  so  many  men  ;  but  the  boys,  who  knew,  said  : 

"  The  old  man  can  win  more  battles,  keep  the  enemy 
more  continually  on  the  retreat  and  lose  fewer  men 
than  any  other  general  in  the  army." 

"  But  how  is  it  done  ?"  I  asked  Fred.  "  How  does 
Sherman  manage  to  keep  control  of  his  army  ?  How 
bring  order  out  of  this  confusion  ?" 

"Well,  you  see,  Sherman  plans  the  campaign. 
Through  his  engineers  he  gets  the  lay  of  the  land 
and  knows  how  to  take  advantage  of  it.  The  generals 
under  Sherman  are  only  his  executives,  who  have  care 
of  the  details.  They  are  told  where  to  go  and  what 
to  do,  and  upon  their  careful  obedience  depends  our 
success.  Generals  are  born,  not  made.  Shoulder  straps 
never  planned  a  campaign  nor  won  a  battle." 

The  arrival  of  the  colonel  was,  naturally,  the  first 
subject  for  discussion ;  but  this  event,  aside  from  the 
letters  he  brought  from  headquarters,  created  no  stir, 
awoke  no  feeling  of  resentment.  The  boys  seemed  to 
be  satisfied  that  he  had  done  all  that  man  could  do  to 
redeem  the  promise  he  had  made,  and  some  even  went 
so  far  as  to  say  that  the  less  we  said  about  horses  the 
better.  Even  Jake,  now  we  were  at  the  front,  was  con- 
tent without  horses,  and  so  expressed  himself. 

Breakfast  eaten,  tents  and  blankets  rolled  up  and 
guns  carefully  cleaned  and  made  ready  for  use,  we 
awaited  orders.  While  we  were  waiting,  taking  in  the 
surrounding  scenery,  "  Black  Lige  "  happened  to  pass, 
and  Jake  hailed  him  with  : 

"  Ho,  Lige  !     Has  the  colonel  got  his  orders  ?" 

"  Yes ;  he 's  got  'em  f  er  sure.  I  done  heered  de  cap'n 
say  dis  mawnin'  dat  we  's  a  goine  ter  jine  Scofield  ter- 
day." 

"  Did  he  say  where  Schofield  was,  Lige  ?"  I  asked. 


144  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  No,  maws'  Dan.  He  done  say  nuffin  'bout  it  'cept 
wut  I  tell  yer." 

"  Fall  in  men,  fall  in,"  called  the  voice  of  our  or- 
derly. 

"That  's  the  talk,"  said  Jake.  "We  '11  get  our  share 
now,  and  when  we  get  a  chance,  we  '11  give  the  Johnnies 
the  best  we  've  got  in  the  shop." 

In  a  few  moments  we  were  in  line,  facing  the  south 
and  quickly  after,  at  the  tap  of  the  drum,  amid  rumble 
and  rattle  on  every  hand,  we  marched  along  the  plain 
about  two  miles  until  near  Rays  Gap  ;  then,  turning 
east,  crossed  Mill  Creek,  and  climbed  to  the  crest  of  the 
ridge,  fully  seven  hundred  feet  above  the  base  of  the 
mountain. 

What  a  climb  that  was  !  Scarcely  a  breath  of  air 
stirred  in  the  woods ;  the  atmosphere  was  hot  and 
stifling,  and  the  ascent  both  difficult  and  hazardous. 
We  were  all  in  high  spirits,  however,  notwithstanding 
the  heat,  and  it  mattered  little  to  us  that  the  battle  was 
not  far  away. 

Up  the  side  of  this  natural  fortification,  which  con- 
tinually impressed  us  with  a  sense  of  its  magnitude, 
over  the  rocks,  now  to  the  left,  turning  and  winding, 
on,  up  and  through  a  forest  of  stunted  pines  and  a 
tangled  undergrowth  that  filled  the  narrow  clefts  and 
crevices  in  this  well  named  rocky  ridge,  we  climbed, 
tumbled,  slipped,  scrambled  and  forced  our  way  until 
late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  came  to  a  halt  near 
some  of  the  Ohio  regiments  of  Schofield's  Division. 

What  a  country  was  spread  out  before  us  !  To  the 
west  of  the  open  plain  below  were  to  be  seen  only  deep 
valleys^  densely  wooded  forests  and  the  rugged  chains 
of  rock  which  ribbed  and  intersected  this  region  in 
every  direction. 

To  the  south  the  corrugated  surfaces  of  Rocky  Face 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  145 

stretched  away  until  it's  identity  was  lost  in  a  back- 
ground of  distant  hills  beyond. 

Eastward  the  scene  was  of  panoramic  beauty. 
Dalton  lay  below  us,  close  to  the  railroad,  and  not 
more  than  two  miles  distant. 

Nature  had  done  much  to  make  Dalton  defensible, 
but  added  to  it  was  the  ingenuity  of  Southern  engi- 
neers. For  miles  around  the  town  we  could  see  a  series 
of  ridges,  which,  with  jutting  spurs,  stretched  out  in 
every  direction  ;  lower  than  Rocky  Face,  but  much 
more  valuable  to  the  enemy,  on  account  of  their  near- 
ness to  the  town  and  the  ease  with  which  they  might 
be  occupied  and  converted  into  strong  defensive  out- 
posts. 

Creeks  and  rivers  threaded  the  landscape,  which  was 
dotted  here  and  there  with  houses,  while  away  to  the 
south  and  east  we  saw  the  blue  summits  of  the  hills  that 
curtained  Resaca. 

The  air  was  better  on  the  ridge  ;  and  while  we  rested 
there,  eating  our  dinner,  and  enjoying  it,  too,  Kimball, 
who  had  been  quietly  taking  stock  of  our  surroundings, 
said,  as  if  to  himself  : 

"  What  a  place  for  defense  !  The  whole  army  of  the 
North  couldn't  storm  this  ridge  and  capture  it.  See 
the  chances  here  for  sharpshooters  !  Why,  they  could 
pick  off  skirmishers  as  easy  as  you  'd  pick  blackberries 
from  a  well-filled  vine,  and  not  stand  in  fear  of  a 
scratch." 

"  'Nd  just  look  at  the  loose  rock  lyin'  around  here," 
interrupted  Jake,  who  had  been  listening  ;  "  's  almost 
as  good  as  ammunition  itself." 

"  Sherman  don't  mean  to  give  the  enemy  any  such 
advantage  as  this  over  him,  I  know,"  continued  Kim- 
ball.  "  He  '11  drive  him  out  of  here,  and  he  won't  do  it 
in  the  way  Johnston  wants  him  to,  either.  After  this 


146  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

comes  Dalton  ;  just  look  at  it !  But  that  '11  go  in  the 
same  way  as  Rocky  Face." 

"  That  's  right,"  responded  Jake  ;  "  but,  as  one  of 
those  Illinois  men  said  last  night,  it 's  going  to  take  a 
heap  of  marching  to  do  it.  Well,  let  it  come ;  I  'm 
ready,  and  want  to  be  moving,  seeing  and  doing  some- 
thing. I  reckon  the  colonel 's  gone  to  report  to  Scho- 
field,  ain't  he,  sergeant  ?"  speaking  to  the  orderly  who 
was  standing  near. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  sergeant ;  "  and  we'll  lie  here 
until  we  hear  from  him." 

Here  was  an  opportunity  to  read  my  letters,  of  which 
I  had  three — two  from  Mary  and  one  from  mother.  To 
be  sure,  I  was  occasionally  interrupted  by  the  booming 
notes  of  artillery,  the  crash  of  bursting  shell,  the-  crack 
of  rifles  and  the  "zip "or  "ping"  of  bullets  as  they 
passed  by  ;  but  though  all  of  these  sounds  were  new  to 
me  and  caused  me  no  little  nervousness,  my  interest  in 
the  letters  never  flagged,  and  I  read  them  through  to 
the  end. 

Mother  inclosed  in  her  letter  a  pressing  invitation 
from  Edith  Miller,  the  deacon's  daughter,  to  visit  Way- 
town. 

"  Come  to  Way  town  again,"  she  said,  "  and  come  to  stay.  I 
need  your  kindly  advice  so  much  in  my  trouble.  Father  died 
shortly  after  you  left,  and  mother  died  scarcely  a  month  since, 
and  you  will  see  that  I  am  alone,  with  no  one  to  advise  me. 
Won't  you  please  come  ?  There  are  matters  here  of  very  great 
importance  to  you,  and  you  must  come  and  see  to  them.  I  can- 
not take  '  no '  for  an  answer." 

Of  course,  my  mother  wondered  what  it  could  all 
mean,  and  referring  to  her  reply,  said  she  would  have 
accepted  the  invitation  if  it  had  not  been  for  my  ab- 
sence, but  that  under  the  circumstances  she  could  not, 
for  the  present,  think  of  it. 

Mary's  letters — ah,  well,  no  language  can  describe 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  147 

the  comfort  and  encouragement  I  derived  from  these 
outpourings  of  a  loving  heart.  They  were  all  that 
could  be  hoped  for  from  the  pen  of  a  true-hearted 
woman,  and  were  read  and  reread  for  days  and  weeks 
afterward — the  same  old  story,  but  always  appealing, 
always  new. 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  spent  in  listening  to  sounds 
of  the  conflict  still  raging  at  Buzzard's  Roost,  watching 
the  movements  of  the  troops  below  us,  the  plain  being 
gradually  deserted,  and  chatting  with  some  of  the 
Ohio  boys.  From  this  source  of  information  we  learned 
that  thus  far  the  Twenty-third  Corps  had  been  used  as 
a  flanking  corps,  and  that  Sherman's  movements  were 
based  on  this  part  of  his  army  as  a  pivot,  swinging  to 
the  right  or  left  as  occasion  demanded. 

"  How  long  he  '11  keep  this  thing  up  's  hard  to  say," 
said  one  of  our  informants,  speculatively  ;  "  but  I  allow 
he  's  goin'  to  keep  at  it,  for  we  Ve  already  heard  we  're 
goin'  to  git  out  o'  this  in  the  morning." 

After  supper,  consisting  of  salt  pork,  hard  tack  and 
cold  water,  for  we  were  not  permitted  to  build  fires  on 
the  Ridge,  we  put  in  the  time  as  best  we  could,  chat- 
ting, observing  the  lights  in  Dalton  as  they  flashed  out 
one  by  one  in  the  darkness  settling  on  the  rapidly 
fading  landscape,  and  then  curled  up  under  our  blan- 
kets as  comfortably  as  the  rocky  nature  of  the  ground 
would  permit,  and  went  to  sleep. 

I  expected  that  the  next  day  would  certainly  bring 
me  face  to  face  with  the  enemy,  but  in  this  I  was  dis- 
appointed, for  when  the  day  broke  we  were  marched 
back  over  about  the  same  stony  ground  we  had  strug- 
gled over  the  day  before. 

The  whole  of  the  Twenty-third  Corps  was  with  us 
this  time,  for  to  the  right  or  left,  as  the  openings  in  the 
trees  or  between  the  hills  permitted,  we  saw  the  whole 


148  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

landscape  was  full  of  bluecoats,  all  marching  in  a  direc- 
tion parallel  to  our  own.  Away  off  to  the  south  we 
heard  the  roar  of  battle.  Behind  us,  far  to  the  rear,  a 
stray  shot  or  two,  perhaps,  but  nearer  us  only  the  usual 
sounds  of  the  march,  the  clatter  of  tinware  at  our  belts, 
the  restless  tap  of  a  drum  here  and  there,  the  profane 
clamor  of  artillerymen  struggling  to  extricate  a  gun  or 
wagon  from  some  muddy  creek.  If  we  were  retreating 
what  were  we  retreating  from  ?  There  was  not  a  gray- 
coat  to  be  seen,  and  no  sounds  that  I  called  alarming 
in  our  rear,  and  our  movements,  though  somewhat 
guarded,  did  not  resemble  what  I  imagined  a  retreat 
must  be.  Nor  did  the  talk  of  those  about  me  give  me 
any  suggestion.  There  were  the  usual  growls  at  the 
roughness  of  the  way,  but  aside  from  that  no  one 
seemed  to  care  whither  we  were  marched  or  what  the 
reason  of  the  movement  was. 

When  one  sees  hundreds  of  others  doing  the  same 
thing  he  is  doing,  and  without  a  sign  of  anxiety  as  to 
the  result  or  of  criticism  as  to  the  method  pursued,  it 
soon  becomes  difficult  to  maintain  even  a  small  amount 
of  private  worry. 

Wednesday  was  spent  in  camp  or  in  lines  of  battle. 
We  did  not  move  much,  and  reports  that  the  enemy 
were  advancing  on  us  under  cover  of  some  woods  at  no 
great  distance  from  our  lines,  kept  my  nerves  always  at 
a  tension.  Shortly  after  dinner  we  were  called  again 
to  the  front,  and  it  seemed,  by  the  look  of  expec- 
tation in  our  officers'  eyes,  that  this  time  the  graycoats 
must  be  certainly  advancing.  We  stood  and  waited, 
hearing  and  seeing  nothing. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  great  cheering,  away  off  to  the 
left  of  the  line  ;  other  regiments  near  us  took  up  the 
cry. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  I  asked,  somewhat  anxiously. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  149 

"  Look  !  Look  !  There  's  Stoneman's  cavalry.  Hurrah, 
hurrah  !"  cried  Jake  at  my  elbow,  pointing  to  the  left. 

A  body  of  horsemen  were  charging  out  of  the  woods 
into  the  open  ground. 

It  was  an  inspiring  sight,  and  I  swung  my  cap  and 
shouted  with  the  rest :  "  Hurrah  !  Hurrah  !"  On  they 
went,  line  after  line  coming  into  view,  a  dense  mass 
flying  over  the  green  earth  like  the  black  shadow  of  a 
cloud. 

There  were  but  two  or  three  thousand  of  them,  a 
drop  in  the  bucket  in  comparison  with  the  hundred 
thousand  hid  away  in  the  miles  of  woods  between  us 
and  the  place  far  away  to  the  south  where  McPherson's 
guns  were  booming.  Yet  it  seemed  as  if  nothing  but 
the  cold  hard  rocks  of  mother  earth,  nothing  of  flesh 
and  blood  could  withstand  that  onward  rush  of  men 
and  horses.  They  looked  all  that  has  ever  been  said  of 
them,  daring,  reckless,  confident.  There  was  an  easy 
swing  and  rhythm  about  their  motion  that  almost  set  me 
dancing.  I  gazed  at  them  admiringly. 

A  wild  yell  pierced  the  air,  sabers  flashed  in  the  sun- 
light and  I  saw  Wheeler's  cavalry  debouching  swiftly 
from  the  opposite  woods. 

Nearer  and  nearer  they  came  together — these  two 
ponderous  masses.  My  breath  came  in  gasps  with  ex- 
citement, in  expectation  of  the  conflict.  I  imagined 
that  when  they  came  together  I  would  hear  a  crash 
like  the  crash  of  an  avalanche  when  it  reaches  the 
valley.  I  braced  myself  for  the  shock  as  if,  when  those 
two  masses  met,  a  heavy  weight  would  strike  me  also 
in  the  chest.  But  when  they  had  charged — to  within  a 
rod  of  each  other  I  should  think — a  shrill  bugle  sounded 
the  retreat,  and  the  enemy  turned  and  rode  swiftly 
away. 

"That  was  just  a  scare/'  said  Kimball.     "  They  only 


150  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

wanted  to  find  out  whether  we  were  in  .force  or 
not." 

I  thought  of  the  old  saw,  "  A  man  might  as  well  be 
killed  as  be  scared  to  death,"  but  simply  looked  wise, 
smiled  and  said  nothing. 

"A  cavalry  charge  's  a  grand  sight,"  continued  Kim- 
ball,  encouraged  by  my  attention.  A  grand  sight  !  It 's 
like  a  living  ram,  to  batter  down  or  scatter  everything. 
Cavalry  like  Stoneman's  's  like  a  hurricane  in  a  city  of 
paper  houses.  They  '11  break  up  infantry  every  time, 
and  '11  silence  a  battery  by  hacking  the  cannoneers  to 
pieces.  Why,  a  cavalryman  on  the  dead  run,  's  these 
fellows  were  just  now,  '11  split  a  man  from  head  to 
waist,  with  his  saber,  's  easy  's  a  butcher  'd  split  a 
spring  lamb  !" 

"  Don't  they  use  their  Spencers  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Neither  rifles  nor  revolvers  are  any  good  to  cavalry 
in  a  charge.  The  saber  's  the  thing  for  the  rush." 

The  enemy  made  no  further  demonstration,  and  we 
held  our  position,  unmolested,  during  the  rest  of  the 
day.  At  night  a  picket  was  set,  and  our  regiment  came 
in  for  its  share  of  duty. 

Fred  and  I  were  assigned  to  the  same  post ; .  and 
there,  by  a  big  tree,  we  stood  and  listened.  That  about 
sums  up  the  duty  of  a  night  picket.  You  stand  by 
some  big  tree  or  stump  or  rock,  while  all  around  you  is 
a  darkness  that  almost  may  be  felt.  And  how  you  do 
listen  !  How  keenly  sensitive  are  the  ears,  and  how 
vivid  the  imagination  at  such  times  !  You  fancy  some- 
body is  moving  toward  you  ;  the  breaking  of  twigs  and 
rustling  of  leaves  settle  this  to  your  satisfaction ;  the 
sound  ceases,  and  the  cold  chills  creep  over  you  as  you 
think  the  cause  of  your  alarm  may  be  standing  on  the 
other  side  of  your  tree,  and  if  you  but  stretch  your 
arm  around  it  you  may  touch  him. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  151 

I  realized  that  the  Confederate  Army  was  only  a  short 
distance  away,  and,  at  times,  strained  my  ears  until  it 
seemed  as  if  the  nerves  and  muscles  of  my  face  would 
crack  with  the  tension  in  the  effort  to  discover  some 
evidence  of  their  nearness.  But  the  stillness  was  un- 
broken, with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  the  piping  of 
frogs  and  the  low,  far-off  rumbling  sound  of  some 
moving  train. 

At  daylight  we  were  again  on  the  move  to  the  south- 
west. This  time  no  regiments  marched  in  front  with 
us.  Two  days  before  we  had  swept  round  from  east  to 
west  like  a  long,  blue  tidal -wave,  regardless  of  road  or 
broken  ground  ;  to-day,  a  long,  blue  serpent-line  of 
men  drew  its  sinuous  folds.  To  the  left  of  us,  the 
gloomy,  unbroken  wall  of  forest,  hiding  the  ridge  of 
Rocky  Face  from  us  and  us  from  the  eyes  of  our 
enemy  along  its  crest ;  to  the  right,  a  broken  country  ; 
ahead,  long  lines  of  soldiers  marching  on  ;  behind  us, 
lines  of  soldiers  coming  after. 

"Looks  as  if  the  whole  army  was  on  the  move," 
said  Jake.  "  There  '11  be  fun  soon,  and  we  '11  have  a 
chance  to  try  these  guns  of  ours." 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  Jake.  Our  guns  won't  rust," 
said  Kimball.  "  We  '11  catch  it  soon  enough.  I  've  had 
all  the  square  meals  of  that  kind  I  want.  I  'd  rather 
march  than  fight  any  day.  It 's  better  to  get  tired  than 
it  is  to  get  killed,  and  a  heap  better  to  suffer  with  blis- 
tered feet  than  to  lose  an  arm  or  a  leg." 

"  It 's  skeery  business,"  replied  Jake  ;  "  but  we  never 
got  killed  yet,  and  we  've  been  under  fire  a  good  many 
times." 

"  Some  of  us  have  been  mighty  lucky  ;  but  you  can't 
tell,  you  can't  tell,"  said  Kimball,  as  he  gave  his  heavy 
cartridge-box  a  hitch  into  a  more  comfortable  position 
and  walked  away. 


152  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

We  entered  Snake  Creek  Gap  and  crowded  on,  some- 
times in  the  stony  road,  sometimes  over  the  shingle 
beside  the  creek  or  along  its  sloping  banks. 

Overhead  the  interlacing  branches  of  the  trees  on 
either  side  of  this  narrow  defile  formed  a  thatch  which 
for  long  distances  shrouded  us  in  gloom.  Occasionally 
a  break  in  the  dense  foliage  let  in  the  sunlight,  and  we 
could  see  the  wild  and  picturesque  scenery  surround- 
ing us. 

We  came  through  the  gap  at  last  and  camped  in  flank 
with  McPherson's  army  before  the  outworks  of  Resaca. 
We  saw  the  light  of  rebel  campfires  reflected  on  the 
clouds  drifting  over  Rocky  Face  far  to  the  north  of  us, 
whence  we  had  come,  and  we  looked  to  our  muskets — 
at  least  I  did — expecting  sharp  work  on  the  morrow  ; 
but  it  did  not  come.  The  roar  of  McPherson's  bat- 
teries and  the  ceaseless  fire  of  musketry  from  his  line, 
still  snarling  like  an  eager  but  wary  watchdog  before 
the  intrenchments  of  Resaca,  were  now  in  our  ears. 
We  were  not  drawn  into  it,  but  were  cautiously  extend- 
ing our  lines  and  resting  on  our  arms.  That  night 
again  we  saw  the  firelight  of  our  enemy  still  in  its  old 
position  to  the  north.  But  the  next  day  a  report  spread 
like  wildfire  along  our  line  that  Johnston  had  left  Dai- 
ton  and  was  concentrating  on  our  front.  This  was  great 
news.  Our  marching  had  countered  them. 

We  saw  the  smoke  of  a  burning  house  or  two  along 
the  railroad.  We  heard  the  shouts  of  our  comrades  of 
the  Fourth  Corps  driving  the  enemy  toward  us  along 
the  ridge  of  Rocky  Face  and  through  Buzzard's  Roost 
Gap,  and  we  perceived  that  the  fire  in  our  front  was 
much  increased,  betokening  a  stronger  force  there. 
Johnston  and  his  whole  army  were  there. 

It  was  the  thirteenth  of  May.  I  had  been  a  soldier 
three  months,  and  I  had  not  fired  a  shot, 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Twenty-third  Corps  marched  two  and  a  half 
miles,  in  a  northeasterly  direction,  on  the  Rome  and 
Dalton  Road;  then  left  it,  and,  regardless  of  roads  or 
fences,  pursued  an  easterly  course  straight  across  the 
country. 

Shortly  after  leaving  the  road,  we  forded  three  or 
four  tributaries  of  Blue  Spring  Creek.  There  was  no 
time  to  stop  and  remove  shoes  and  stockings  at  these 
places  ;  it  was  simply  walk  in,  regardless  of  water  or  its 
depth,  just  as  a  horse  or  a  mule  would  do.  Fortunately, 
the  water  was  not  more  than  half  way  up  to  my  knees, 
and  all  I  had  to  do,  on  reaching  the  other  side,  was  to 
squeeze  my  trousers  as  dry  as  possible,  and  depend  for 
the  rest  upon  the  movement  of  my  feet,  which,  when  I 
walked,  worked  up  and  down  in  my  shoes  like  a  pump- 
plunger,  throwing  out  water  at  every  stroke. 

Our  line  of  march  seemed  to  be  so  planned  that 
we  passed  no  houses  on  this  tramp,  though  we  could 

I '53] 


154  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

not  have  been  far  removed  from  them,  as  we  frequently 
saw  fences  surrounding  lands  under  cultivation. 

At  Line  Creek  we  did  not  fare  so  well,  as  the  water 
was  quite  deep  in  places,  and  the  steep  bank  leading  to 
the  hill  on  the  opposite  side  made  it  difficult  to  continue 
in  a  straight  line ;  but  we  forded  the  stream,  and  in 
zigzag  order,  with  the  water  in  our  shoes  chugging 
and  crunching  at  every  step  as  we  ascended  the  hill 
and  pressed  on. 

We  had  heard  more  or  less  firing  since  daybreak  ;  but, 
after  leaving  the  wagon  road,  the  sound  became  more 
continuous,  and  rapidly  increased  in  volume.  When 
we  gained  the  crest  of  the  hill,  close  to  Line  Creek,  the 
noise  of  battle  grew  more  distinct,  and  we  could  with 
ease  distinguish  the  booming  of  artillery  from  the  rattle 
of  musketry. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  we  descended  to  the  valley 
and  came  into  line  on  the  left  of  Thomas,  facing  Camp 
Creek,  which  separated  us  from  the  strongly  intrenched 
hills  occupied  by  the  enemy  north  of  Resaca. 

To  the  right  and  left  the  rattle  of  musketry  from  our 
skirmish  lines,  which  were  pressing  the  enemy  toward 
the  creek,  was  continuous.  From  still  farther  to  the 
right  and  south,  where  McPherson  was  engaged,  came 
the  deep-toned  thunder  of  artillery  ;  in  our  immediate 
front  the  silence  was  absolute.  We  knew  the  enemy 
was  there,  however — perhaps  felt  it,  rather  than  knew  it. 

Between  us  and  the  enemy  there  stretched  a  broad, 
green  valley  down  to  the  harmless  creek,  which  rip- 
pled peacefully  along  as  if  there  were  no  such  thing  as 
war.  The  sky  was  clear  as  crystal.  The  sun  shone 
brightly,  as  if  to  gladden  our  hearts  and  induce  us  to 
abandon  our  wretched  business.  But  the  birds  among 
the  trees  near  by  flitted  nervously  from  branch  to 
branch,  discontented,  fearful,  silent. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  155 

I  had  hardly  taken  in  the  beauties  of  the  scene  when 
an  order  was  given  for  our  deployment  as  a  skirmish 
line.  It  came  unexpectedly,  and,  it  seemed  to  me,  was 
given  without  the  careful  deliberation  it  merited,  and 
wholly  regardless  of  whether  we  were  ready  or  not. 

I  felt  my  face  become  pale  and  my  strength  suddenly 
leave  me.  The  least  push,  or,  it  seemed  to  me  then, 
breath  of  air,  would  have  tumbled  me  headlong  to  the 
earth. 

I  would,  at  that  moment,  have  given  all  I  had,  or 
ever  expected  to  have,  for  a  place  of  safety.  The  idea 
of  being  ordered  like  that,  to  stand  between  two  op- 
posing armies.  That  any  human  being  should  have  it 
given  into  his  power  to  say : 

"  You  go  to  the  front  and  die  !" 

I  looked  at  my  comrades  for  a  sign  that  all  was  not 
right.  There  seemed  to  be  no  spirit  of  concern  or 
question  either  in  their  faces  or  in  their  actions. 

Fred,  on  my  left,  was  walking  with  his  gun  at  the 
"trail,"  looking  straight  ahead.  Jake,  on  my  right, 
and  Kimball  next  to  him,  were  doing  the  same  thing  ; 
in  fact,  the  whole  line  was  steadily  advancing. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  the  silence  before  us  was  awful. 
It  did  not  matter  that  there  was  firing  either  to  the 
right  or  left  ;  my  ears  were  closed  to  that,  and  both 
eyes  and  ears  were  strained  to  catch  a  glimpse  or  hear 
a  sound  of  the  enemy  in  front. 

Of  course,  I  was  in  position  all  this  time  ;  spurred  on 
by  pride,  absence  of  will-power  to  do  other  than  what 
I  was  bid  or  what  you  will,  I  kept  pace  with  the  line  as 
it  advanced. 

At  last  a  little  break  in  the  woods  revealed  the  breast- 
works of  the  enemy. 

"  Forward  !  Double  quick  !"  shouted  a  voice  in  our 
rear. 


156  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

I  threw  one  glance  behind  me  to  see  if  the  main  line 
were  advancing. 

They  had  not  moved.  Could  it  be  that  this  order 
was  meant  for  us  alone.  It  seemed  to  me  the  faces  of 
the  men  in  our  rear  were  cold,  cruel  and  grim,  and  I 
wondered  if  it  was  usual  to  order  a  line  of  men,  separ- 
ated so  widely  as  we  were,  to  charge  upon  an  enemy 
of  unknown  strength.  It  was  unreasonable  to  expect 
anything  like  success  from  such  a  movement. 

Would  the  silence  before  us  never  be  broken  ?  That 
awful  hush  was  wearing  upon  me !  I  nervously 
raised  my  gun,  looked  it  over  to  make  sure  it  was  all 
right,  then  again  lowered  it  to  a  "  trail,"  clinging  tight- 
ly to  it  all  the  while. 

But  look  !  A  puff  of  white  smoke  and  a  red  blaze 
suddenly  sprang  out  from  the  trees  beyond  the  creek. 
Scarcely  had  I  seen  it,  when  a  loud  report  reached 
my  ears  and  then  from  the  same  spot  a  dozen  or  more 
fiery  throats  belched  forth  their  wrath  and  passion. 

I  heard,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  the  shrill  whistle 
made  by  flying  shell,  and  as  I  ducked  my  head,  now 
this  way,  now  that,  the  sharp,  quick  shots  of  musketry 
followed  and  bullets  went  by  my  ears  with  a  "  zip,  zip  " 
or  rattled  like  hail  on  the  ground  around  me,  or  drove 
into  the  earth  at  my  feet,  throwing  up  pieces  of  dirt 
into  my  face.  It  seemed  as  if  we  were  rushing  into  the 
very  jaws  of  death. 

The  artillery  were  getting  our  range  now,  and  burst- 
ing shell  were  flinging  their  iron  fragments  far  and 
wide. 

A  sudden  tug  at  the  strap  holding  my  canteen 
caused  me  to  look  down.  My  canteen  had  been  struck 
on  the  side,  just  tearing  its  cloth  covering.  "  Whew,  that 
was  a  close  one  !"  I  thought,  for  I  did  a  vast  amount  of 
thinking  in  that  scrambling  dash. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  157 

"  Forward,  double  quick  !" 

But  we  were  going  then,  to  my  mind,  at  breakneck 
speed.  What  need  for  another  order  ?  I  was  running 
and  trembling,  when,  suddenly,  almost  in  our  faces,  a 
blaze  of  fire  and  the  whistling  of  bullets  nearly  robbed 
me  of  what  little  strength  remained.  My  heart  seemed 
to  stand  still,  waiting  for  my  body  to  be  struck.  For  a 
moment  I  didn't  think  I  knew  anything — not  even  my 
own  name,  but  I  pulled  down  the  visor  to  my  cap  and 
bent  my  head  forward  as  I  ran,  like  one  breasting  a 
stinging  hailstorm. 

"  Steady,  boys, steady  !"  shouted  our  captain.  "Drive 
'em  into  the  creek." 

The  veterans  set  their  teeth,  grasped  their  guns  more 
firmly  and  sprang  forward,  I  dreamily  rushing  onward 
with  the  rest,  without  a  definite  thought  save  that  of 
danger  and  an  enemy  that  must  be  forced  to  retreat. 

"Fire  at  will  !" 

Aha  !  With  the  first  discharge  of  my  gun  fear  van- 
ished, and  a  proud  feeling  of  ability  to  take  care  of 
myself  intoxicated  me  after  I  had  fired  some  half-dozen 
rounds,  when  I  again  looked  to  the  right  and  left.  Fred 
and  Jake  and  Kimball  and  Taylor  and  all  the  others 
were  there,  not  a  man  missing,  all  intent  on  the  work 
before  them,  loading  and  firing  as  they  advanced. 

Again  and  again,  not  in  volleys,  but  as  fast  as  guns 
could  be  loaded  and  fired,  the  enemy's  artillery  from 
the  woods  across  the  creek  blazed  and'thundered,  filling 
the  air  with  screaming,  bursting  shell. 

But  high  above  it  all  now  rose  a  prolonged  cheer 
from  the  main  line  in  our  rear.  Then  the  quick  tread 
of  many  feet  encouraged  us,  for  we  knew  that  the  army 
was  coming  on.  Cheer  upon  cheer,  in  which  I  joined 
as  lustily  as  any  one,  rolled  like  a  wave  along  the  line, 
and  as  I  took  place  In  the  front  rank  and  touched 


158  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

elbows  with  the  veterans  of  that  advancing  line,  a 
thrill  of  enthusiasm  shot  through  me  which  I  shall 
always  remember. 

The  transition  from  weakness  and  fear  to  excitement 
and  strength  was  brief  but  positive.  I  •  loaded  and 
fired  and  cheered,  loaded  and  fired  and  yelled  like  a 
madman,  it  seems  to  me,  as  I  think  of  it  now. 

Whether  I  ever  hit  anybody  I  don't  know,  as  the 
smoke  settled  down  upon  us  and  we  could  only  aim 
low  and  trust  to  chance  for  results. 

Several  times  in  my  haste  I  came  near  not  with- 
drawing my  ramrod  before  firing,  and  shooting  that 
useful  implement  into  the  enemy's  camp. 

On,  on,  through  a  deadly  cross-fire  of  shot  and  shell 
that  whistled  and  screeched  and  howled  above  us  and 
around  us,  striking  trees,  cutting  through  branches, 
bounding  along,  plunging,  ricocheting,  tearing  up  the 
ground  and  throwing  clouds  of  loose  earth  over  us,  we 
hurried  to  the  finish. 

Men  were  now  falling  about  me  but  I  only  loaded 
and  fired  the  faster.  Presently  the  artillery  ceased  fir- 
ing, and  almost  at  the  same  instant  from  out  of  the 
woods  in  front  flashed  a  red  line  of  musketry. 

"Charge  !" 

Forward,  we  sprang,  rushing  at  full  speed,  stumbling, 
scrambling  through  briers  and  leaping  over  such  ob- 
stacles as  lay  in  our  path.  The  enemy  turned  and  fled 
into  the  creek,  we'  pursuing  close  after  them,  firing  as 
we  ran.  Across  the  creek,  waist  deep  with  water,  and 
up  the  steep  bank  on  the  other  side  we  followed,  lessen- 
ing the  interval  between  the  lines  at  every  step. 

At  the  top  of  the  hill  the  enemy,  gathering  courage 
from  the  presence  of  fresh  troops  behind  intrenchments, 
stopped  long  enough  to  fire  another  volley  at  us,  then 
retreated  to  other  intrenchments  still  further  to  the 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  159 

rear  and  left  the  outer  line  of  defense  in  our  posses- 
sion. 

And  now,  as  the  enemy's  artillery  from  another  point 
directed  their  fire  upon  us,  a  new  element  of  confusion 
was  added  to  the  pandemonium  of  sounds  about  us.  A 
battery  or  a  number  of  gunners  from  our  own  side  had 
come  to  our  relief  and  began  to  blaze  away  at  the 
enemy. 

For  awhile  it  seemed  as  if  shot  and  shell  met  in  the 
air  and  fought  for  right  of  way,  such  a  bellowing,  burst- 
ing, roaring,  echoing  sound  throbbed  and  beat  upon  the 
air.  It  did  not  last  long,  as  the  enemy  soon  retired  to 
other  intrenchments  still  further  to  the  rear. 

We  advanced  again,  occupied  the  second  line  of 
works,  strengthened  the  reverse  side  as  much  as  possi- 
ble, and  waited  in  silence.  There  were  few  of  us  who 
cared  to  talk  much.  I  had  just  time  enough  to  eat  a 
small  piece  of  bacon  and  a  couple  of  hard  tack  when 
some  one  shouted : 

"  Look  out,  boys  !  They  're  going  to  try  and  take 
this  line  back  again  !  They  're  corning  up  the 
hill !" 

This  was  followed  by  a  rattle  of  musketry  from  the 
enemy  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  They  are  coming  in 
huge,  dust-covered  masses,  loading  and  firing  as  they 
advance,  without  stop,  determined  to  drive  us  out  of 
our  position  or  die. 

When  they  were  within  a  hundred  yards  of  us  we 
leveled  our  guns  over  the  breastworks  and  let  them 
have  it.  They  did  not  waver,  though  their  lines  were 
broken  and  disordered,  but  came  on  faster  and  nearer. 
Bullets  were  flying  about  my  head  with  a  nearness  that 
was  exasperating. 

We  were  standing  two  or  three  deep,  with  just  enough 
space  between  to  allow  room  for  loading.  The  rear 


160  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

lines  were  firing  between  and  over  the  heads  of  the 
men  in  front  of  them. 

There  was  something  maddening  in  the  flashing  and 
explosion  of  the  rear  rank  guns,  their  muzzles  almost 
on  a  line  with  our  faces.  The  sharp  report  that  was 
continuously  ringing  in  our  ears  ;  the  sulphurous  odor 
of  burned  powder,  and  the  "  zip,  zip  "  of  the  enemy's 
bullets  above  us,  around  us  and  between  us — when  they 
did  not  strike — may. fairly  be  said  to  have  constituted 
my  baptism  of  fire. 

In  camp,  each  movement  in  the  operation  of  loading 
and  firing  was  anticipated  by  an  order.  Now  we  were 
loading  and  firing  independently  of  each  other  without 
word  of  command ;  the  man  who  loaded  quickest  firing 
oftenest. 

I  went  through  the  process  of  loading  and  firing 
mechanically,  and  without  giving  any  special  thought 
as  to  what  I  was  about. 

The  noise  in  my  ears  was  so  deafening  that  I  could 
not  tell  whether  my  gun  had  been  discharged  or  not, 
and  I  did  not  even  feel  it  kick,  although  my  shoulder 
was  sore  for  days  afterward. 

My  ammunition  was  fast  disappearing.  My  cartridge- 
box  had  been  emptied  long  ago,  and  I  was  then  using 
cartridges  from  my  haversack  ;  these,  too,  were  nearly 
gone,  yet  the  enemy  were  coming  on.  Men  are  falling 
in  all  directions.  We  saw  them  a  moment  advancing 
through  the  smoke  ;  they  disappear  like  specters  and 
others  glide  into  their  places ;  yet  always  the  same 
blackened  faces,  flashing  eyes,  clenched  teeth  and  grip- 
ing hands.  It  is  hard  to  see  men  fall  like  that,  yet  the 
sickening  work  went  on.  But  they  could  not  long  en- 
dure our  terrible  fire,  that  had  already  told  fearfully  on 
their  ranks  ;  and,  at  last,  they  doubted,  hesitated,  then 
turned  and  broke  for  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  leaving 


'FIRK  AT  wiu.!"— Net  f'ayt  I.rt7. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  161 

their  dead  and  wounded  behind  them,  covering-  the 
sides  of  the  slope. 

At  this  moment  we  were  relieved  by  other  troops 
and  marched  to  the  rear,  over  the  ground  we  had  just 
passed.  Dead  and  wounded  were  scattered  in  all  direc- 
tions, and  men  were  continually  dropping  out  of  line 
to  look  at  this  one  or  that,  and  to  offer  such  assistance 
as  was  possible.  While  I  was  looking  at  the  faces  of 
the  different  men  we  passed,  I  heard  Kimball  say  : 

"  Hello  !  There  's  Eli  Norcross,  and  he  's  been  hit, 
too ;  hit  hard,  I  reckon.  Perhaps  we  can  help  him ;" 
saying1  which,  Kimball,  Fred  and  I  started  toward  a 
form  lying  on  the  ground,  some  distance  away. 

Reaching  the  spot  where  the  wounded  man  lay,  Kim- 
ball kneeled  beside  him  and  said  : 

"  Are  you  hurt,  Eli  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"Where?" 

"Through  the  body.  I  'm  'most  gone.  Can't  last 
long.  Hand  me  my  haversack." 

Kimball  reached  for  the  haversack,  which  lay  a  short 
distance  away,  and  drew  it  toward  him. 

Open  it,  Kimball,  and  take  out  the  things  that  are  in 
there." 

Kimball  did  as  directed,  and  spread  the  contents  of 
the  bag  on  the  ground,  where  they  could  be  easily  seen. 

"  Kimball,"  said  Eli,  "  stand  the  four  photographs  so 
I  can  see  them." 

The  pictures  of  his  wife  and  three  children  were 
placed  so  he  could  look  at  them.  After  a  moment's 
pause,  during  which  the  dying  man  gazed  earnestly  at 
the  pictures,  he  spoke,  falteringly,  and  with  labored  effort: 

"Kimball,  I  want  my  wife — to  have  my  watch — and 
the — little  money  I  Ve  got — in  my  pocket.  I — I — ain't 
got — much  else — nothin'  fer  the — children,  God  bless 


162  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

'em  !  Give  my  writin'-kit  ter  my  oldest  girl.  To  Katie — 
give  my  sewin'-gear.  To  my  boy — my  baby — what  can 
I  send  ter  him  ?" 

After  pondering  a  moment,  he  continued,  huskily  : 

"  Kimball,  give  me  a  drink  from  my  canteen." 

The  canteen  was  produced,  and  placed  to  the  parched 
and  whitening  lips.  After  drinking,  Eli  said  : 

"  Kimball,  send  the  canteen,  just  as  it  is,  to  my  boy. 
Write  to  his  mother  and  tell  her  that  I  drank  from  it 
just  before  I  died.  Tell  her — to  explain  to  my  boy — 
when  he  gets  old  enough,  that  I  was  killed  in  defend- 
ing the  flag  of  my  country.  Tell  her  I  want  my  son 
to  know  all  about  the  wrong  done  by  the  men  who  have 
tried  to  ruin  this  country,  and  that,  whenever  he  looks 
at  this  battered  old  canteen,  to  remember  that  his 
father  drank  from  it  just  before  he  died  on  the  battle- 
field. Kimball,  you  take  my  blanket ;  it 's  better  than 
yours.  My  poncho — give — it — to — to —  Hold  the  pict- 
ures nearer,  Kimball  ;  there,  that's  better.  Ah,  'Kate — 
we  did  not  think,  as  you  stood  in  the  lane  holding  baby 
in  your  arms,  the  day  we  parted,  that  I  should  never  see 
you  again.  By-by,  baby  ;  by-by,  darling." 

And  a  smile  hovered  around  the  lips  of  the  husband 
and  father,  as  he  closed  his  eyes  and  passed  peacefully 
away. 

Taking  the  few  things  which  had  been  intrusted  to 
his  care  Kimball  arose,  and  together  we  left  the  spot, 
hurrying  on  to  our  company,  where  we  were  loaded 
down  with  a  hundred  rounds  of  ammunition. 

While  we  were  resting — waiting  to  be  called  into 
action — the  firing  continued  along  the  whole  line,  and 
was  kept  up  far  into  the  night,  when  it  gradually  died 
away,  and  finally  ceased  altogether. 

At  sundown  the  company  was  mustered  into  line  and 
the  roll  called. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  163 

"  Alfred  Abbot !"  cried  the  orderly,  repeating  the  first 
name  on  the  list. 

No  response. 

"  Alfred  Abbot !"  the  sergeant  called  again,  this  time 
falteringly,  as,  lowering  his  book,  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon 
the  ground ;  for  Abbot  and  the  orderly  were  like 
brothers. 

"  Alfred  Abbot  was  shot  as  we  were  crossing  the  val- 
ley, and  before  we  reached  the  creek,"  replied  a  trem- 
bling voice  to  the  right.  "  He  was  by  my  side  when  he 
fell." 

The  sergeant  coughed,  as  if  to  control  his  voice,  raised 
the  book,  and  then  called  : 

"  Ezra  Armstrong !" 

"  Here !" 

"  Thomas  Bennett." 

"  Here !" 

"  Erastus  Brown." 

No  response.  The  sergeant  repeats  the  name,  raises 
his  eyes  from  the  book  and  looks  inquiringly  up  and 
down  the  line. 

"  Does  any  one  know  about  Brown  ?"  he  asks. 

"  We  jumped  into  the  creek  together,"  replied  Taylor, 
"  but  I  missed  him  before  we  got  to  the  other  side." 

"  John  Butterworth !" 

"  Here  !" 

"  Charles  Carroll." 

"  Here !" 

And  so  on  down  the  list,  the  response  "  Here  "  was 
given,  without  break,  until  the  name  of  Eli  Norcross 
was  reached.  When  this  name  was  called  Kimball 
spoke. 

"  Eli  is  dead,  sergeant.  He  went  down  in  the  valley 
yonder.  Just  as  the  order  was  given  to  charge.  A 
piece  of  shell  hit  him  in  the  side." 


164  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  Poor  Eli !"  said  Fred,  who  was  standing  at  my  side. 
"  It  was  he  who  hesitated  so  long  when  we  veteranized. 
His  family  will  miss  him." 

"  Enoch  Norton." 

u  Here,  sergeant,  all  but  the  tip  of  my  little  finger," 
replied  Norton  holding  up  his  left  hand  and  showing 
the  bandage  around  that  member. 

Altogether,  we  lost  from  our  company,  in  missing 
and  killed,  about  a  dozen  men,  and  some  half  dozen 
more  that  were  disabled  by  reason  of  wounds.  My 
own  messmates  were  all  present,  and  had  passed 
through  the  fire,  unharmed. 

A  cup  of  coffee,  the  first  I  had  tasted  since  leaving 
the  camp  at  Mill  Creek,  a  piece  of  bacon,  toasted  in  the 
fire,  and  a  quantity  of  hard  tack,  for  I  was  ravenously 
hungry,  constituted  my  bill  of  fare  for  supper,  after 
which  I  enjoyed  a  quiet  smoke  and  then  slept. 

I  tried  to  write  to  Mary  that  night,  for  I  had  much 
to  tell  her.  I  got  so  far  as  to  tell  her  that  I  had  passed 
through  my  first  fire  test  unharmed  when  I  caught  my 
hand  making  unintelligible  lines  on  the  paper  and  my- 
self nodding  over  it.  My  eyes  would  not  stay  open.  I 
tore  up  the  paper  and  rolled  myself  in  my  blanket. 
The  rugged  bosom  of  Mother  Earth  was  softer  than 
down  to  me  that  night  and  the  occasional  booming  of 
artillery  a  soothing  lullaby. 

Monday  morning  Sherman  entered  Resaca  and  an- 
other town  was  scored  to  our  credit. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

From  this  time  onward  our  movements  to  the  south 
were  through  a  country  more  open,  less  broken  up  by 
hills  and  valleys  and  much  easier  to  travel  over.  The 
excitement  was  so  continuous  that  I  soon  became  accus- 
tomed to  it,  finding  time  to  take  interest  in  affairs 
beyond  my  own  neighborhood,  and  to  watch,  as  much 
as  possible,  the  movements  of  our  army. 

We  never  saw  a  tenth  part  of  our  whole  force  at  one 
time  ;  rarely  a  battle  in  which  any  considerable  num- 
ber of  men  were  engaged.  But  we  did  see  any  amount 
of  skirmishing  and  had  our  share  in  it — enough  to 
satisfy  even  Jake  ;  at  least,  we  heard  no  grumbling 
from  him  on  this  subject. 

For  the  most  part,  after  we  left  Cassville,  we  were 
under  fire  night  and  day,  and  the  feeling  of  fright  at 
the  sound  of  the  bullets  changed  to  one  of  indifference. 
I  listened  to  their  bodeful  whistle  with  respectful  atten- 
tion, but  not  with  so  much  anxiety  and  dread  as  at  first. 

While  we  were  away  off  on  the  left,  watching  the 
flank  of  Johnston's  army  and  trying  to  turn  it,  we  kept 
ourselves  well  informed  as  to  the  movements  of  the 
rest  of  the  army. 

Our  information  was  always  recent  and  very  seldom 
erroneous,  though  I  am  sure  most  of  it  originated  in 

[165] 


160  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

the  practiced  judgment  of  my  veteran  comrades  and 
their  ability  to  interpret  the  sounds  of  distant  strife 
rather  than  in  definite  news.  We  seldom  had  time  for 
visiting  with  other  regiments.  Word  would  come  gal- 
loping up  from  headquarters,  somewhere  away  off  to 
the  right,  or  be  "  ticked "  out  in  spasmodic  jerks  on 
the  telegraph  key,  and  before  the  sound  of  the  hoof- 
beats  or  the  click  of  the  instrument  had  died  away 
drums  would  be  beating  and  a  regiment  or  two,  or  per- 
haps our  whole  corps,  would  have  gathered  up  its 
belongings  and  be  on  the  move. 

The  boys,  with  Thomas  at  the  center,  had  an  easy 
time  of  it  comparatively.  It  was  their  business  to  push 
the  enemy  back  and  to  hammer  away  until  he  was 
driven  out  of  his  stronghold.  It  was  on  the  Army  of 
the  Tennessee  at  the  right  and  on  us  at  the  left  that 
the  hard  work  fell,  and  in  this  hard  work  the  Army  of 
the  Ohio  had  more  than  its  share.  Day  and  night  we 
were  on  the  move,  marching,  countermarching,  crossing 
creeks  and  rivers,  sometimes  on  bridges,  oftener  in  the 
water,  throwing  up  earthworks,  fighting,  skirmishing, 
continually  harassing  and  threatening  the  enemy's 
flank. 

A  forced  march  is  a  horror  to  the  best  soldier  that 
ever  carried  a  rifle.  It  means  torture  of  mind  and 
body  ;  a  dull  aching  of  bones  to  the  very  marrow  ;  in- 
tense weariness  and  pain,  and  complete  prostration  of 
the  physical  powers.  It  means  to  fall  asleep  before 
you  touch  the  ground  in  an  attempt  to  lie  down.  Ten 
minutes'  rest  at  such  times  is  only  an  aggravation.  It 
is  easier  to  keep  moving  than  to  again  rise  at  the  com- 
mand, "  Fall  in,  men !"  and  find  yourself  stiff er  and 
sorer  than  before — if  that  were  possible  ;  but  one  thing 
encourages  us  through  it  all — the  fact  that  the  enemy 
were  always  retreating  and  that  our  pains  and  aches 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  167 

had  not  been  needless,  and  when  an  objective  point 
was  once  reached  long  rests  were  the  rule  rather  than 
the  exception.  But  whenever  we  started,  with  a  long 
distance  to  cover  and  a  clear  road  before  us,  we  pressed 
on  and  on,  halting  rarely,  and  then  only  for  five  or 
ten  minutes,  just  long  enough  to  snatch  a  bite  of 
something  to  eat  and  to  find  out  how  tired  we  really 
were.* 

The  country  through  which  we  passed  was  deserted 
by  its  inhabitants  ;  in  some  places  scarcely  a  family  was 
left,  and  the  males,  if  there  were  any,  were  either  too 
young  or  too  old  to  handle  a  musket  or  were  prevented 
from  so  doing  by  reason  of  sickness. 

The  slaves,  also,  were  mostly  too  old  to  be  of  any 
use  ;  the  others  had  been  run  off  to  the  south,  where 
they  could  be  of  service  to  the  Confederates. 

Over  the  hills  which  had  been  so  stubbornly  defended, 
passing  intrenchments  and  retrenchments,  passing  the 
enemy's  dead,  lying  just  as  they  had  fallen,  down  the 
slope,  out  of  the  woods,  to  the  plain  we  marched  in  a 
southeasterly  direction  and  toward  the  Connasauga. 

Reaching  the  river,  we  followed  down  its  right  bank 
to  Fites  Ferry,  where  we  crossed.  As  the  water  was 
more  than  waist  deep  at  this  point,  and  as  there  was  no 
bridge,  the  artillery  was  ferried  over  on  flatboats  ;  we 
were  allowed  to  strip  before  crossing.  A  comical  sight 
it  must  have  been  to  see  us  with  clothes,  haversacks, 
ammunition  and  rifles  rolled  up  in  blankets  and  carried 
above  our  heads.  Shouts  of  laughter  greeted  the  un- 
lucky fellow  who  slipped  and  wet  his  bundle,  and  they 
were  not  a  few  who  fell.  Whether  the  cool  water  and 
the  opportunity  for  a  bath  presented  a  temptation  too 
strong  to  be  resisted  or  whether  it  was  accidental,  only 

*  "  We  marched  and  fought  during  the  day  and  fortified  under  cover  of 
the  night.  This  was  characteristic  of  the  Atlanta  campaign."— .Diary  of 
O.  L.  Overly,  16<A  Ky. 


168  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

the  ludicrous  side  of  the  situation  was  noticed,  and  a 
spectator  might  have  easily  imagined  us  a  lot  of  jolly 
school-boys  out  for  a  frolic,  instead  of  an  army  of 
veteran  soldiers  in  pursuit  of  a  hostile  force.  But  the 
bath  was  refreshing  and  answered  better  than  a 
rest. 

Dressed  and  once  more  in  line,  we  moved  on  in  high 
spirits  toward  Field's  Mill.  At  the  Coosawatee  River, 
four  miles  from  Field's  Mill,  we  found  the  road  block- 
aded by  Hooker's  troops,  who  had  preceded  us.  Here 
we  halted,  ate  our  supper,  spread  our  blankets  and  were 
soon  asleep. 

The  next  day,  the  ryth,  was  devoted  to  rest  for  us, 
and  bridge  building  for  others.  That  bridge  building 
was  a  realized  ideal  in  mechanics,  which,  to  the  con- 
tractor in  times  of  peace,  would  have  seemed  an  impos- 
sibility. From  out  of  the  woods  in  all  directions,  along 
the  river's  bank,  came  soldiers,  bearing  timbers  cut  in 
proper  lengths,  and  all  prepared  to  be  placed  in  posi- 
tion. While  the  work  of  preparation  was  going  on  in 
the  woods,  the  process  of  construction  seemed  like  a 
work  of  magic  ;  the  trestle  work  rapidly  reared  its  sub- 
stantial height  to  the  required  level,  and  increased  in 
length,  yards  at  a  time.  At  ten  o'clock  that  night, 
when  the  bridge  was  finished,  we  marched  over  it  and 
headed  for  Big  Springs,  which  we  reached  at  three 
o'clock  next  morning. 

Here  we  found  temporary  barricades  of  rails  and 
logs,  and  were  welcomed  with  volleys  of  musketry  from 
the  enemy's  skirmish  line. 

We  speedily  settled  it  in  our  minds  that  there  would 
be  a  battle  at  daylight,  but  when  the  day  broke  the 
enemy  had  abandoned  their  position. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  i8th  we  marched  by  way 
of  Cassville  to  Cartersville,  skirmishing  nearly  all  the 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  169 

way  with  the  enemy's  rear  guard,  who  were  driven 
back  without  serious  loss. 

At  Cartersville  there  was  some  show  of  force,  but  the 
enemy  gracefully  retired  on  the  night  of  the  ipth, 
without  offering  serious  opposition  to  our  progress. 
From  this  point  a  detachment  of  the  Twenty-third 
Corps,  followed  up  the  left  bank  of  the  Etowah  to  the 
Etowah  Iron  Works  and  destroyed  them  on  the  2oth. 

From  Cartersville  we  crossed  the  Etowah  River,  at 
Gillem's  Bridge,  and  marched  over  the  Alatoona  road 
toward  Burnt  Hickory.  Stoneman's  cavalry  were  in  the 
advance,  skirmishing  as  they  went.  We  were  gener- 
ally in  sight  of  the  enemy's  intrenched  lines,  and 
subjected  at  all  times  to  more  or  less  firing  from  skir- 
mishers, yet  we  lost  but  few  men  from  the  whole  corps. 

At  Burnt  Hickory  we  rested  for  three  days,  and  most 
thoroughly  enjoyed  it,  although  at  no  time  was  the  air 
free  from  the  sounds  of  battle  or  skirmish. 

Here  I  was  initiated  into  the  mystery  of  baking 
beans.  Boiled  beans  or  bean  soup  was  a  dish  familiar 
enough  in  camp,  but  we  never  had  them  served  to  us 
in  any  other  way.  The  feast  at  this  place  was  pro- 
vided by  Kimball,  who  had  captured  a  couple  of  quarts 
of  white  beans  at  Cartersville  and  shared  his  treasure 
with  Fred,  Jake  and  myself,  saying  as  he  gave  them 
to  us  : 

"  Let  's  hang  on  to  these  until  we  find  a  chance  to 
bake  them,  somewhere." 

At  Burnt  Hickory,  Kimball  obtained  from  a  deserted 
cabin,  an  iron  pot,  which  he  jubilantly  held  aloft  as  he 
came  toward  us  after  supper,  remarking  : 

"  I  Ve  got  the  thing  we  need,  boys.  We  '11  have  our 
baked  beans  now,  for  sure  ;  and  they  '11  be  all  the 
better  by  putting  what  we  have  together." 

"That  's  business,"  said  Jake,  and  he  at  once  began 


170  THE.  GUN-BEARER. 

to  dig  a  hole  with  his  bayonet  using  his  hands  to  re- 
move the  loosened  earth. 

After  the  hole  was  made  large  enough  to  accom- 
modate the  pot,  a  fire  was  built  over  it  and  allowed  to 
burn  out.  The  pot  with  its  precious  contents  of  beans, 
water  and  pork  and  a  little  salt  for  seasoning  was  then 
carefully  rested  on  the  earth  at  the  bottom  of  the  hole, 
and  the  glowing  coals  filled  in  around  it.  A  flat  stone 
then  covered  the  pot  and  a  fire  was  built  on  top  of  the 
stone,  spreading  out  so  as  to  heat  the  earth  about  it. 

"  We  are  not  to  do  guard  duty  to-night,"  said  Kim- 
ball  ;  "  so  we  can  take  '  turn  about '  watching  the  beans." 

"  Watching  them  ?"  said  I. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jake.  "  There  're  other  people  who  like 
beans,  and  they  know  when  they  're  cooked  long  enough, 
as  well  as  we  do.  Besides,  you  've  got  to  keep  a  little 
fire  agoin',  or  they  won't  be  cooked  enough." 

That  settled  it  with  me.  I  could  have  watched  all 
night,  if  it  had  been  necessary,  for  the  sake  of  the  beans; 
but  four  of  us  made  easy  work  of  it,  and  when  break- 
fast time  came,  in  the  morning,  the  coals  were  brushed 
away,  the  flat  stone  removed,  and  there  was  a  sight 
which  would  have  delighted  the  eyes  and  the  heart  of 
the  most  fastidious  epicure  in  New  England. 

A  pot  of  beans,  cooked  to  perfection  ;  a  piece  of  pork 
on  the  top,  with  the  rind  brown  and  crisp.  The  water 
had  boiled  away,  leaving  just  enough  to  make  them 
juicy  and  appetizing.  And  then  the  odor  from  the 
smoking  mass  as  we  ladled  them  out  on  our  plates  ! — 
it  makes  me  hungry,  even  now,  to  think  of  it.  We  had 
abundance  for  ourselves,  for  Taylor  and  for  the  orderly, 
who  happened  along  as  we  were  taking  them  out  of  the 
pot. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  25th,  we  heard  sharp 
firing  to  the  south,  where  there  seemed  to  be  a  deter- 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  171 

mined  effort  on  the  part  of  one  army  to  advance,  and 
equally  as  obstinate  a  disposition  displayed  by  the 
other  army  to  prevent  the  advancement.  Which  was 
the  attacking  party  we  were  unable  to  learn.  We  could 
tell  only  by  the  firing,  which  crept  nearer  and  nearer 
until  the  lines  in  front  were  engaged,  that  the  move- 
ment was  general. 

"  There  's  something  up,  sure  's  you  live,"  said  Jake. 
"  Just  hear  the  artillery  I" 

"  That 's  all  right,"  said  Kimball,  pointing  westward. 
"  But  just  look  at  that  for  a  sunset !  And  look  at  those 
clouds,  will  you  !" 

We  turned  and  saw  the  sun,  looking  like  a  great  drop 
of  blood,  just  ready  to  sink  behind  the  western  hills, 
while  to  the  south  we  saw  heavy  rolls  and  masses  of 
angry,  inky  clouds  rising  rapidly. 

"We'd  better  get  ready  for  a  thunder-storm,"  said 
Fred.  "  It 's  coming  up  fast,  and  a  storm  of  that  kind, 
down  here,  means  a  drenching  unless  you  're  housed." 

"  And  mighty  well  housed,  too,"  added  Kimball. 

While  we  were  watching  the  sunset  and  the  storm,  as 
it  came  sweeping  across  the  sky,  orders  were  received 
to  prepare  for  immediate  departure.  An  hour  later, 
with  arms  at  a  "  secure  "  and  covered  with  our  ponchos, 
we  fell  into  line  and  marched  along  the  west  side  of 
Pumpkin  Vine  Creek  toward  Owen's  Mills. 

Directly  above  us,  and  to  the  north,  was  a  starry 
space  in  the  sky  ;  to  the  south  rose  the  many-headed 
crest  of  the  stars,  around  the  edge  of  which  the  light- 
ning played  continually,  while  to  the  east  the  night  shut 
in,  black  and  dense. 

Onward,  mile  after  mile,  we  marched,  with  the  boom 
of  artillery  and  the  rattle  of  musketry  behind  us  and 
to  the  right  of  us  ;  on,  through  the  darkness  and  deso- 
lation, the  way  becoming  more  difficult  at  every  step. 


172  THE    GUN-BEARER. 

Now  and  then  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  flashing  guns 
and  of  exploding  shell ;  and  as  we  were  not  far  from 
our  intrenched  lines  an  occasional  flight  of  bullets 
whistled  around  and  above  us. 

The  roar  of  battle  was  unceasing,  but  now  was  added 
to  it  the  distant  growling  of  thunder,  echoing  solemnly 
down  and  through  the  vast  dome  of  night. 

"  It  's  going  to  be  an  awful  night  for  a  march,"  said 
Jake.  "  Look  at  the  rain  and  wind  in  those  clouds  !" 

Great  masses  of  brass-colored  clouds,  led  by  vapory 
monsters,  were  hurrying  across  the  heavens  toward  us, 
seemingly  borne  along  without  wind  for  the  air  was 
hot  and  stifling.  The  flashing  lightning  threw  a  weird 
distorted  light  upon  the  blackness,  revealing  for  an 
instant  the  dark  line  of  our  column  in  front  and  rear, 
and  the  long  series  of  rifle  pits  to  our  right,  then  dis- 
appearing leaving  the  darkness  more  intense  than  be- 
fore. On  rolled  the  brass-colored  clouds,  and  on,  above 
them,  came  the  muttering  storm. 

"  Hark,  Dan  !"   said  Fred.     "  Did  you  hear  that  ?" 

"  You  mean  the  cheering  !" 

"  Yes.  Look,  Dan,  look  quick  !"  said  Fred,  hurriedly, 
as  a  continuous  chain  of  lightning  shot  out  from  the 
clouds  and  illumined  the  scene  for  miles  around.  I 
looked  and  saw  a  body  of  men  charging  across  a  field 
on  our  right ;  just  in  front  of  them,  separated  by  only 
a  short  interval  of  space,  was  another  body  of  men 
running  at  full  speed. 

Immediately  following  this  protracted  flash  of  light- 
ning came  a  peal  of  thunder  so  terrific  that  the  roar  of 
artillery  could  not  be  heard.  Flash  followed  flash, 
crash  succeeded  crash,  now  from  the  heavens,  then, 
feebly,  from  the  guns  of  the  contending  forces. 

And  now,  with  the  wind  which  came  tearing  along, 
filling  the  air  with  leaves  and  limbs  of  trees,  the  storm 


THE    GUN-BEARER.  17$ 

broke  upon  us.  Behind  the  wind  swung  in  the  curtain 
of  the  rain,  sparkling  in  the  flashing  light  like  a  heavy 
shower  of  polished  silver  beads,  and  wrapping  us  so 
closely  in  its  density  that  we  were  unable  to  see  any- 
thing. 

For  a  time  the  majesty  of  the  storm  was  upon  us,  but 
we  stumbled  and  plodded  along  through  pools  of  mud 
and  water,  fearing  more  from  the  lightning  which 
flashed  and  twisted  and  writhed  and  hissed  through 
the  air,  driving  into  the  ground  right  and  left,  than 
from  the  fragments  of  bursting  shell  which,  notwith- 
standing the  storm,  the  enemy  still  continued  to  throw 
toward  us. 

After  the  fury  of  the  storm  abated,  though  the  rain 
continued  until  near  midnight,  we  left  the  road  and 
took  to  the  fields,  throwing  down  fences  as  we  ad- 
vanced. 

Our  whole  course  was  determined  by  the  irregular 
line  of  the  enemy's  intrenchments,  along  the  front  of 
which  we  marched,  trying  to  reach  the  end  or  flank  and 
turn  it. 

At  midnight  we  came  upon  the  mule  teams  belong- 
ing to  Hooker's  army  and  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland. 
Passing  these  obstacles  was  slow  work  and  vexatious 
and  delayed  our  progress  for  an  hour  or  more. 

At  Brown's  Mill  we  crossed  the  little  Pumpkin  Vine, 
and  an  hour  later  came  in  on  the  right  of  Howard's 
Fourth  Corps,  on  the  hills  facing  the  Dallas  and  Ala- 
toona  road,  with  the  Sixteenth  Kentucky  in  the  post  of 
honor. 

Friday's  sun  rose  bright  and  hot,  and  with  it  again 
the  spiteful  sounds  of  battle  up  and  down  the  line  ;  not 
in  volleys,  as  when  charging  troops  are  repulsed,  but 
the  isolated,  irregular  fire  of  skirmishers  and  sharp- 
shooters and  the  boom  of  occasional  cannons.  But  we 


174  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

held  our  position  quietly,  with  nothing-  to  especially 
interest  us  until  in  the  afternoon  troops  *  were  massed 
in  our  rear.  From  this  they  marched  out  along  our 
division  line,  crossed  the  Alatoona  road  and  at  length 
stirred  up  a  hornet's  nest  of  rebels.  They  came  back 
again  and  passed  out  of  sight  to  the  northward  behind 
our  lines. 

The  noise  they  stirred  up  soon  died  away,  but  this 
marching  meant  something.  Soon  we  got  news  of  it 
in  the  tumult  that  arose  far  away  to  our  left,  where  the 
two  armies  quit  worrying  each  other  with  skirmish 
firing  and  sprang  at  each  other's  throats. 

We  advanced  our  line  a  little  without  opposition,  and 
did  not  see  much  of  the  sharp  fighting  that  took  place 
beyond.  But  it  was  practically  useless.  We  got  no 
real  advantage  and  our  loss  was  severe,  so  they  said. 
Our  boys  were  attacking  an  intrenched  line,  and  the 
enemy  hurt  them  sadly. 

The  next  day  and  the  next  the  enemy  tried  our  plan 
on  the  right  of  our  line,  and  they  were  made  to  suffer 
as  they  had  made  us.  And  every  day  the  battle  be- 
came more  general,  until  on  the  last  day  of  May  we 
were  included  in  the  tempest. 

Early  in  the  day  a  sharper  sputtering  of  rifles  in  our 
front  warned  us  of  the  coming  storm,  and  then  our 
skirmishers  came  hurrying  in  ;  after  them,  the  gray 
backs. 

"  Steady,  men,  steady  !"  said  Captain  Hartees,  in  a  low, 
quieting  voice. 

He  was  on  one  knee  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  ;  his  face  was 
set ;  a  naked  sword  was  in  his  hand,  and  his  black  eyes, 
just  raised  above  the  level  of  our  head  log,  were  flash- 
ing up  and  down  the  slope  in  our  front. 

*  General  Wooda'a  Division. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  175 

"  Steady !"  he  kept  muttering  between  his  teeth. 
"  Steady  !  Wait  till  you  see  the  whites  of  their  eyes  ; 
then  give  them  h !  Steady  !" 

I  felt  that  our  time  was  coming. 

a  Aim  !"  There  was  a  grunt,  that  expressed  both  dis- 
content and  satisfaction,  from  Jake,  at  my  elbow,  as  we 
leveled  our  muskets  at  the  line  of  men. 

It  is  strange  what  little  things  fix  one's  attention  in 
such  instants  of  suspended  breath.  I  saw  our  captain 
crouching  behind  the  tree  stump,  like  a  panther  bal- 
ancing himself  for  a  spring.  I  saw  Fred  shrug  his 
shoulder,  as  though  a  strap  was  chafing  him.  I  heard 
Jake  grunt,  and  saw  one  clean-cut,  yellow  face  in  the 
advancing  crowd,  and — "  Fire  !"  The  yellow  face  was 
hidden  in  the  smoke.  At  it  we  went,  hammer  and 
tongs. 

They  tried  to  break  the  line  of  an  Illinois  regiment 
at  our  right,  but  they  did  not  succeed.  We  drove  them 
back  at  last,  and  they  left  their  dead  and  wounded  in 
our  hands.  As  they  hurried  away,  one  man  stopped, 
and,  turning  to  a  fallen  comrade,  lifted  him  and  was 
bearing  him  away.  I  sighted  him,  but  Kimball  stopped 
my  finger  on  the  trigger.  "A  man  like  that  deserves 
better  'n  to  be  shot  in  the  back,"  he  said  ;  and  I  woke 
up  feeling  quite  ashamed  of  myself ;  for,  to  tell  the 
truth,  I  was  still  so  green  in  this  business  that  I  didn't 
know  rightly  what  I  was  doing,  and  would  have  kept 
on  firing  at  any  moving  thing  in  range  or  out  of  it,  for 
that  matter,  until  brought  up  with  a  short  turn.  And 
one  rebel  that  I  know  of  was  spared,  for,  though  I  did 
not  realize  what  I  was  doing,  my  muscles  were  iron,  my 
point-blank  aim  was  sure  and  my  musket  carried  true. 
I  am  glad  he  got  away,  for  he  was  a  "  white  "  man,  as 
my  boy's  slang  phrase  now  puts  it. 

From  this  place  we  pushed  on  toward  Burnt  Church, 


176  THE    GUN-BEARER. 

oftentimes  in  line  of  battle,  slowly  and  surely  forcing1 
the  enemy  back,  for  they  contested  stubbornly  every 
foot  of  ground  we  tried  to  cover. 

Well  do  I  remember  our  charge  through  Alatoma 
Creek  in  the  midst  of  a  terrible  thunderstorm,  the 
roar  of  heaven's  artillery  mingling  with  the  boom  of 
guns  in  our  face  and  the  rain  falling  in  torrents.  But 
we  crossed  the  creek  and  drove  the  enemy  up  a  densely 
wooded  slope,  where  the  timber  was  so  thick  you 
couldn't  see  the  skirmish  line  back  upon  their  reserve, 
who  opened  on  us  a  galling  fire  and  sent  us  back  to  the 
shelter  of  the  timber  along  the  creek.  Here  we  forti- 
fied, for  we  could  go  no  farther,  as  the  rain  had  swollen 
the  creek  to  an  unfordable  torrent. 

"  We  're  in  for  it  now,"  grumbled  Jake,  casting  an 
anxious  glance  back  toward  the  angry  river.  "Our 
support 's  safe  over  yonder,  and  can't  back  us  if  they 
want  to." 

"  Looks  as  though  we  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  rebs," 
Fred  murmured. 

"  Suppose  they  charge  us  ?  Where  'd  we  be  ?"  asked 
Jake,  sententiously. 

"  I  guess  we  'd  hold  'em  an  argument,  but  they 
won't,"  drawled  Kimball.  "  We  '11  get  a  free  bath, 
that 's  all.  The  Johnnies  can't  do  us  much  harm  from 
behind  their  works,  and  they  won't  leave  them  to- 
night." 

Kimball's  idea  of  the  situation  proved  to  be  correct, 
as  the  enemy  contented  themselves  with  playing  upon 
us  with  their  artillery  and  musketry,  by  which  we 
suffered  little. 

As  we  lay  there  that  night,  sleepless,  in  our  intrench- 
ments,  we  could  hear  the  minie  balls  or  the  heavier 
iron  shot,  as  they  went  sputtering  through  the  leaves 
above  us ;  but  more  to  be  feared  than  minie  ball  or 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  177 

shrapnel,  were  the  shrill-whistling  shells,  which  came 
hurtling  through  the  air  or  pounding  against  the  tree 
trunks,  that  turned  them  from  their  course.  Sometimes 
they  burst  above  our  heads,  showering  their  fragments 
upon  us.  More  frequently,  however,  they  passed  over 
and  wasted  their  fury  among  the  trees  in  our  rear. 

June  3d  the  enemy  withdrew  from  our  immediate 
front,  falling  to  intrenchments  parallel  with  those  above 
Picket's  Mill,  facing  north,  while  we  spread  out  all  the 
time,  I  suppose,  for  Johnston,  at  last,  found  his  flank 
turned  ;  and  on  the  night  of  June  4th,  pulled  up  his 
tent  pegs  and  fell  back  to  a  point  between  Lost  and 
Brush  Mountains,  some  distance  north  of  Kenesaw. 

As  soon  as  it  was  discovered  that  Johnston  had  aban- 
doned his  position,  Sherman  lost  no  time  in  securing 
the  railroad  at  Acworth.  Our  whole  front  was  changed. 
Up  to  this  time  our  corps  had  been  on  the  left  of  the 
line  ;  but  now,  while  we  stood  fast  to  our  position,  the 
other  corps  were  marched  by  us,  until  Thomas,  with 
the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  following  one  of  his  own 
corps,  the  2oth,  that  had  been  for  a  short  time  to  our 
left,  and  McPherson,  with  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee 
following  both,  we  were  left  in  McPherson's  old  posi- 
tion, on  the  extreme  right. 

It  was  a  jolly  time,  full  of  good  wit  and  good  jokes 
flying  between  us  and  our  friends,  as  company  after 
company  went  marching  past  our  position  toward  the 
east.  We  did  not  see  the  whole  army  by  any  means,  as 
all  did  not  travel  by  the  same  road  ;  but  what  we  did 
see  gave  me  a  better  idea  of  the  vast  number  of  men 
it  had  taken  to  bring  us  thus  far.  We  were  driving  the 
enemy  back,  and  that  made  every  face  pleasant. 

While  we  rested  there  Fred  and  I  wrote  home. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Much  has  been  written  concerning  the  Atlanta  cam- 
paign, and  from  a  broader,  more  comprehensive  point 
of  view  than  mine.  Our  company — our  regiment,  even — 
was  but  a  drop  in  the  bucket,  compared  with  the  sum- 
total  of  Sherman's  great  army.  Though  rumors  flew 
thick  and  fast  along  our  line,  so  that  we  at  the  extreme 
left  knew  what  was  going  on  perhaps  twenty  or  thirty 
miles  to  the  right  of  us,  yet,  from  the  fact  that  so  many 
thousands  of  men  were  engaged  and  so  little  depended, 
apparently,  on  the  acts  of  a  single  regiment,  those  ele- 
ments were  wanting  which  were  necessary  to  make  it 
seem  a  personal  struggle. 

To  tell  the  story  of  our  experiences,  from  New  Hope 
Church  to  the  fall  of  Atlanta,  would  be  but  to  repeat, 
with  slightly  different  scenic  settings,  the  tale  of  the 
skirmishes,  flank  movements  and  constant  pushing  for- 
ward by  the  left,  which  I  have  already  described.  Of 
these  the  reader  would  soon  weary,  and  that  which  is 
to  come  would  seem  to  be  only  the  ringing  of  another 
change  in  the  same  line  of  experience. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  179 

Of  the  events  to  be  described,  little,  if  anything,  has 
ever  been  written.  They  occurred  at  a  time  when 
every  man  was  of  the  utmost  importance  ;  when  our 
numbers  were  greatly  reduced,  and  when  the  conditions 
were  the  reverse  of  those  we  had  just  passed  over,  as 
we  were  retreating  before  a  vastly  outnumbering  foe. 
Therefore,  as  the  object  of  this  story  is  more  to  give  the 
personal  experiences  of  a  soldier  than  to  compile  a 
regimental  history,  I  hurry  over  the  weeks  and  months 
preceding  the  fall  of  Atlanta,  to  take  up  the  details  of 
our  struggles  with  Hood  in  Central  Tennessee. 

The  purpose  of  describing  our  experience  thus  far 
will  have  been  accomplished  if  the  reader  is  enabled 
thereby  to  see  in  what  a  school  for  soldiers  we  were. 
On  the  move  from  morning  till  night,  nay,  even  liable 
to  be  roused  from  our  sky-covered  beds  at  midnight 
to  march  through  trackless  woods,  over  rocky  ridges, 
through  creeks  and  streams  and  mud  and  dust  and 
swamp,  in  rain  or  wind  or  scorching  heat,  often  with- 
out fire,  and  always  under  the  enemy's  guns. 

Such  was  our  service  for  months,  with  now  and  then 
a  sharp  engagement,  in  which  our  number  was  greatly 
reduced  by  killed  and  wounded. 

We  were  well  fed  and  hearty ;  sickness  seemed  to 
have  vanished  from  us  in  that  clear  mountain  air, 
above  all,  we  were  full  of  courage.  We  felt  that  the 
great  mind  of  our  general  was  directing  all  our  move- 
ments and  we  saw  that  he  had  made  no  mistakes. 

I  must  not  forget  the  grim  smile  of  satisfaction 
which  spread  over  the  composite  face  of  the  army  when 
we  learned  that  Hood  had  succeeded  Johnston,  who 
had  so  well  managed  his  command  as  to  win  our  re- 
spect. Johnston  had  been  giving  us  the  hardest  kind 
of  work,  and  it  was  with  absolute  satisfaction,  there- 
fore, that  we  heard  of  the  change.  Certainly  Hood 


180  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

could  be  no  worse  for  us.  Then,  too,  we  heard  that 
Johnston's  careful  but  safe  policy  was  not  the  one  to  be 
pursued  by  his  successor ;  that  "  now  there  would  be 
something  done."  All  of  which  was  very  amusing,  to 
say  the  least,  and  provoked  a  smile  of  gratification.  It 
was  right  into  our  hand,  and  just  what  we  wanted. 

But  somehow  those  fights  never  came  off,  and  there 
was  no  radical  change  of  policy.  We  continued  to  push 
and  the  enemy  continued  to  retreat,  just  as  before. 

Wherever  we  planted  our  feet  that  ground  was  ours. 
It  would  have  taken  legions  to  dislodge  us. 

We  speedily  learned  the  use  of  the  ax  and  shovel. 
As  soon  as  we  found  the  enemy  holding  a  strong  posi- 
tion in  front  of  us  we  set  to  work  throwing  up  intrench  - 
ments.  That  this  work  was  almost  always  performed 
under  fire  did  not  matter.  The  ax  was  swung  just  as 
steadily,  and  pick  and  shovel  were  just  as  unceasingly 
handled  until  the  work  was  complete. 

Our  breastworks  usually  consisted  of  a  continuous 
trench,  about  two  or  three  feet  deep.  The  earth  was 
thrown  forward  and  sloped  so  as  to  give  the  greatest 
height  next  the  trench.  Logs  were  frequently  placed 
along  the  edge  of  the  trench  as  we  began  to  dig  ;  these 
logs  formed  a  sill.  Cross  timbers  were  then  laid  on 
these  sills  and  another  line  of  logs  parallel  with  and 
above  the  first  line  were  laid  on  the  binders.  The  ex- 
cavated earth  was  then  thrown  forward  of  and  banked 
against  the  logs,  and  the  work  continued  until  the  top 
log  was  about  breast  high. 

In  front  of  this  intrenchment  small  trees  were  laid 
together,  with  the  branches  toward  the  enemy.  The 
small  limbs  were  trimmed  away  and  the  larger  limbs 
sharpened,  so  that  thousands  of  wooden  points  were 
presented — an  obstacle  through  which  the  enemy  must 
pass  in  order  to  reach  us. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  181 

Behind  a  fortification  like  this  one  feels  compara- 
tively safe  ;  before  it,  however,  the  case  is  different,  as 
any  soldier  of  experience  can  testify.  Many  a  time 
have  I  seen  some  unlucky  graycoated  soldier  caught  by 
the  sharp-pointed  abatis  and  shot  before  he  could  ex- 
tricate himself. 

In  a  short  time  after  the  enemy  disappeared  from 
before  our  breastworks,  perhaps  within  an  hour,  we  left 
our  position  and  advanced  to  a  new  one,  always  with 
the  same  round  of  work  and  excitement. 

This  constant  spreading  out  and  building  intrench- 
ments,  together  with  the  fact  that  we  were  never 
attacked  with  our  own  numbers,  never  had  a  chance  at 
the  enemy  except  when  we  found  them  in  superior 
force  or  behind  strong  intrench  ments,  so  worked  upon 
us  that  we  were  all  "  spoiling  for  a  fight." 

If  we  could  only  get  a  chance  at  the  enemy  in  the 
open  ground.  But  the  country  around  New  Hope 
Church,  Kenesaw  Moimtain  and  Alatoona  was  so 
broken  into  hills  and  irregular  ridges  and  ravines 
and  valleys  that  it  was  impossible  to  get  the  vantage 
ground  we  longed  for. 

However  strong  the  intrenchments  of  the  enemy 
might  be,  we  could  find  high  places  enough  in  their 
immediate  vicinity  from  which  to  make  an  attack, 
and  sometimes  to  overlook  and  command  their  posi- 
tions, but  that  was  all.  Then,  too,  the  thick  cover  of 
the  forests  so  completely  veiled  our  movements  that 
we  were  frequently  enabled  to  get  into  the  rear  of  the 
enemy  and  make  the  attack  from  that  side.  But  Hood, 
whenever  he  found  there  was  a  possibility  of  his  being 
cut  off  from  Atlanta,  rapidly  abandoned  his  positions 
and  fell  back,  and  the  actual  contact,  the  pitched  battle, 
never  came. 

This  round  of  duty  became  more  or  less  monotonous 


182  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

as  the  days  grew  into  weeks,  and  the  weeks  into  months. 
Of  course,  our  talk  of  narrow  escapes,  on  picket  or  in 
the  skirmish,  was  often  relieved  by  some  extraordinary 
event,  which  gave  variety  to  our  after  battle  talk  ;  but 
for  the  most  part,  as  we  were  having  things  very  much 
our  own  way,  we  gave  but  little  thought  to  passing 
events. 

While  we  were  at  the  battle  around  Pine  Mountain 
an  incident  occurred  to  which  many  of  us  owed  our  lives. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  i3th  of  June  we  were 
advanced  as  skirmishers  up  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
and  in  front  of  the  line  of  battle  formed  by  our  army. 
The  skirmish  line  was  well  extended,  the  men  being 
separated  from  each  other  by  a  distance  of  perhaps 
three  paces. 

Our  movements  were  in  plain  sight  of  the  enemy,  and 
a  continual  popping  was  heard  from  their  sharpshoot- 
ers' pits,  while  over  our  heads  whirred  and  screamed 
the  shell  thrown  at  the  line  in  our  rear. 

Up  the  hill  we  went,  from  tree  to  tree,  from  stump  to 
stump,  and  from  rock  to  rock,  one  eye  on  the  line  of 
rifle-pits,  in  front  and  above  us  ;  the  other  eye  on  our 
own  line,  the  next  stopping  place,  or  on  the  ground 
over  which  we  were  travelling. 

There  was  a  quality  of  excitement  in  this  running  and 
jumping,  and  darting  from  cover  to  cover — daring,  chal- 
lenging the  markmanship  of  sharpshooters — that  pro- 
voked a  spirit  of  recklessness  which  increased  with  every 
successful  advance  we  made.  I  appreciated  the  pro- 
tection of  a  big  tree  trunk,  or  rock,  and  cannot  describe 
the  combined  feelings  of  confidence  and  doubt  which 
possessed  me  as  I  stood  for  an  instant  in  a  place  of 
comparative  safety  selecting  my  next  goal,  and  then 
took  the  plunge  from  security  into  danger,  not  know- 
ing but  I  should  fall  by  the  way.  ' 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  183 

My  interest  in  fhis  method  of  advance  so  absorbed 
me,  that  I  took  little  note  of  anything  else,  until  Fred 
shouted  : 

"  Keep  your  eye  on  the  line,  Dan  !  Don't  get  too  far 
ahead  of  it !" 

It  was  hard  for  the  individual  to  regulate  his  motions 
by  the  movement  of  the  line,  as  the  chances  for  success 
seemed  to  be  lessened  by  being  thus  handicapped. 
Sometimes  the  firing  in  my  immediate  front  was  so 
heavy  that  I  waited  an  instant  before  starting. 

To  be  sure,  we  had  now  been  under  fire  for  a  month, 
but  somehow  there  had  never  before  appeared  to  be  so 
much  danger.  Heretofore,  we  had  been  screened  by 
dense  woods  and  a  heavy  undergrowth,  and  so,  with 
one  exception,  had  never  been  brought  so  clearly  face 
to  face  with  what  we  had  to  encounter.  In  previous 
engagements  we  had  touched  elbows,  and  had  felt  the 
thrill  and  encouragement  of  companionship.  Now  we 
were  as  individuals,  a  mark  for  sharpshooters,  toward 
whose  pits  we  were  pressing  on  and  on. 

A  small  house  stood  almost  in  our  path  as  we  ad- 
vanced up  the  slope.  There  was  little  or  no  protection 
between  that  point  and  the  first  line  of  the  enemy's 
intrenchments.  A  good  number  of  our  men  were 
shaping  their  course  to  get  behind  that ;  but  Captain 
Hartees,  noting  the  movement,  shouted  : 

"  Keep  your  distances,  men  ;  and  whatever  you  do 
keep  away  from  that  house  !" 

Pressing  on,  we  turned  farther  to  the  left,  avoiding 
the  house.  Company  A,  however,  determined  to  take 
advantage  of  the  shelter. 

"  Keep  away  from  that  house,"  I  heard  Hartees  shout 
to  the  captain  of  Company  A,  but  no  attention  was 
paid  to  the  warning. 

Up,  up  we  went,  until  we  were  close  upon  the  enemy's 


184  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

works.  Here  every  man,  behind  the  best  shelter  he 
could  find,  halted  for  breath.  I  turned  for  a  look  at 
the  main  line  and  when  I  saw,  perhaps  a  hundred 
yards  below  us,  those  solid  ranks  of  men  who  were 
used  to  this  sort  of  thing,  who  had  made  war  and  battle 
a  business  for  the  last  three  years,  when  I  saw  those 
men  moving  hurriedly  yet  steadily  forward,  a  feeling 
of  security  came  over  me  that  whistling  bullets  and 
shrieking  shell  could  not  dissipate. 

I  looked  over  our  skirmish  line  to  the  right  and  left ; 
every  man  was  at  his  post,  eager,  expectant,  waiting  for 
the  word  to  go.  I  saw  besides  that  we  were  in  direct 
line  with  the  house  and  that  Company  A  had  huddled 
in  behind  it. 

We  were  waiting  for  breath  and  the  word  to  charge 
upon  this  outer  work  in  front.  The  enemy  were  in 
good  position  and  would  make  it  warm  for  us.  There 
was  no  doubt  of  that.  We  might  succeed  in  getting 
force  enough  into  their  works  to  drive  them  out,  but  if 
we  didn't — what  ?  It  would  be  a  hand-to-hand  fight — 
and  if  it  should  come  to  that — 

"  Forward !"  yelled  the  captain,  and  as  we  sprang 
out  with  the  order  to  advance,  the  guns  of  the  enemy 
were  opened  furiously  upon  us. 

"Quick, my  men  !"  shouted  Hartees,  who  was  in  ad- 
vance of  us.  "  Now  's  your  chance  !" 

With  a  sort  of  scared  hurrah  which  was  caught  up 
and  echoed  by  the  line  behind  us,  we  broke  for  the 
works,  passed  the  rifle  pits,  with  the  sharpshooters  still 
in  them,  and  into  the  line  of  intrenchments,  where  we 
took  a  few  prisoners.  Why  the  force  opposing  us  was 
not  larger  was  quickly  explained  by  one  of  the  cap- 
tured men,  who  said  to  Hartees  : 

"  Captain,  nobody  here.  They  Ve  gone  'nd  are  tryin' 
ter  lead  yer  on.  Yer  'd  better  not  try  'nd  go  any  furder 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  185 

ter-day.  I  'm  a  prisoner  now,  'nd  it  don't  make  no  dif- 
ference ter  me  what  I  says,  but  we  Ve  got  a  right  smart 
work  back  o'  this  ;  been  at  it  fer  a  month.  'F  yer  try 
it  on  ther  men  '11  git  cut  up  purty  bad  'nd  the  rest  '11 
git  gobbled." 

Captain  Hartees  sent  the  man  to  the  general,  and 
while  awaiting  developments  we  lay  down  under  cover 
on  the  reverse  side  of  the  works  we  had  captured,  safe 
from  the  action  of  the  artillery  beyond. 

Looking  backward  over  the  ground  we  had  just 
passed  we  saw  in  the  prostrate  forms,  lying  just  as  they 
had  fallen,  the  wretched  work  made  by  the  enemy's 
guns.  We  also  saw  why  it  was  that  we  were  ordered 
to  keep  away  from  the  house.  The  fire  of  the  artillery, 
at  the  moment  of  our  advance,  had  been  concentrated 
on  this  house  and  had  riddled  it,  the  enemy  knowing 
that  men  would  naturally  seek  shelter  behind  it. 

The  result  was  disastrous  to  Company  A,  and  many 
were  killed  and  wounded  with  shot  and  shell  and  flying 
splinters,  while  we  escaped  almost  without  losing  a 
man. 

The  works  we  captured  were  of  great  strength,  built 
of  logs  and  stone  and  covered  with  loose  earth. 


CHAPTER  XVIL 

From  the  time  we  were  within  twenty  miles  of  At- 
lanta we  were  kept  constantly  informed  of  the  cruelties 
practiced  on  our  men  who  were  prisoners  at  Anderson- 
ville — a  place  about  one  hundred  miles  from  our  camp. 

Every  day  or  two  one  or  more  escaped  prisoners 
would  be  picked  up  by  some  portion  of  Sherman's 
army,  and  the  story  of  their  sufferings  passed  from 
camp  to  camp.  There  was  one  story  that  came  home 
to  us. 

One  day  we  had  settled  into  position  at  the  siege  of 
Atlanta.  Kimball,  who  had  been  out  with  a  squad  from 
Company  I,  brought  back  with  him  a  poor  fellow  who 
had  escaped  from  Andersonville. 

"  I  found  him  in  the  brush,  asleep,"  said  Kimball, 
"  and  I  thought  he  was  dead  at  first." 

To  describe  the  half-crazed  starving  stranger,  and  do 
justice  to  the  appearance  he  presented,  would  be  to  fill 
the  page  with  sickening  details  ;  suffice  it  to  say,  that 
soap  and  water  were  vigorously  applied  ;  his  tangled, 
matted  hair  and  beard  were  trimmed  ;  his  clothes  were 
all  removed,  thrown  into  the  fire,  and  he  was  dressed  in 
another  outfit,  worn  and  old  to  be  sure,  but  clean,  and 
contributed  by  the  boys. 
[186] 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  187 

After  this  he  devoured  all  we  dared  give  him,  and 
slept  by  the  fire  during'  the  rest  of  the  day.  At  sun- 
down, he  awoke  apparently  much  refreshed,  and  we 
placed  before  him  a  piece  of  broiled  beef,  a  cup  of 
coffee  and  a  half  dozen  hard  tack.  And,  while  sitting 
with  his  back  against  a  tree,  still  eating,  he  told  the 
story  of  his  imprisonment  and  his  suffering ;  and  a 
feverish  glow  arose  to  his  pallid  cheeks,  and  his  eye 
glittered  with  a  wild,  demented  light,  as  he  talked. 

"  Boys, "  he  said,  as  we  gathered  around  him  to  eat 
our  own  supper,  "  you  want  to  know  how  they  treated 
us  down  there  ?"  lifting  his  bony  finger  in  the  direction 
of  Anderson ville.  "  Look  at  me.  I  'm  the  kind  of  work 
they  turn  out.  A  few  months  ago,  and  I  was  the  equal 
of  the  best  of  you.  And  now — " 

His  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  his  voice  grew  husky, 
as  he  continued,  tremblingly  : 

"  Boys,  it  unmans  me  to  think  of  sitting  here,  eating 
and  drinking,  while  thousands  of  our  poor  fellows  over 
there  have  nothing  fit  to  eat ;  not  a  drop  of  pure  water 
to  drink  ;  not  even  a  bone  to  gnaw  ;  nothing  but  a  little 
measure  of  thin  ham  broth  every  day  ;  hundreds  dying 
of  starvation,  and  hundreds  going  mad  every  day." 

He  carefully  set  down  the  dipper  of  weak  coffee  from 
which  he  had  been  drinking.  His  head  sank  on  his 
breast,  and  he  was  silent  for  a  moment,  while  great 
drops  of  sweat  rolled  down  his  face.  But  we  waited 
patiently,  in  full  sympathy  with  his  emotion,  and  in 
time  the  story  was  resumed. 

"  What  is  it  like  ?  It  is  a  pen ;  a  slaughter-house 
yard  ;  an  open  field  surrounded  by  a  high  log  fence, 
perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  long  each  way.  Into  this 
place  last  June  twenty-six  thousand  men  were  crowded. 
'T  is  true  ;  the  fiends  themselves  said  so.  Hot  ?  Not  a 
breath  of  wind  sifted  through  the  pine  forest  outside 


188  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

the  tall  stockade.  All  night  as  well  as  throughout  the 
day  the  heat  was  intense — something  we  never  have 
north.  The  brook  which  flowed  through  the  pen  was 
filthy  with  the  offal  from  the  rebel  camp  and  cook- 
houses before  it  reached  us  ;  but  we  had  to  drink  it  ; 
't  was  all  there  was." 

"  What  did  they  feed  you  on  ?"  asked  Kimball. 

"  Feed  ?  A  bit  of  moldy  bacon  and  musty  meal. 
That 's  what  they  gave  us.  'Twas  just  enough  to  keep 
us  alive  to  suffer — no  more.  Our  strength  soon  failed, 
and  our  hope,  too.  Our  clothes,  what  we  had,  were  in 
tatters  or  had  been  torn  up  for  bandages,  and  we  were 
covered  with  vermin  from  head  to  foot.  Still  the  rebs 
were  afraid  of  us,  weak  and  helpless  as  we  were,  for 
they  shot  us  down  like  dogs  if  we  dared  cross  the  dead- 
line near  the  stockade. 

"  And  then  the  new  comers.  Every  morning  brought 
them,  sometimes  by  the  hundreds,  and  yet  the  pen 
never  grew  any  fatter.  There  were  as  many  dead 
carted  away  next  day.  Stand  in  any  part  of  that  place 
to  look  about  you,  the  same  scenes  met  your  eye  ; 
groups  of  men  sitting  or  standing  and  looking  toward 
something  in  the  center ;  men  walking  or  crawling 
between  these  groups ;  everybody  dirty,  ragged  and 
starving.  No  sound  of  voices,  except  in  oaths  or  yells 
of  the  mad  or  in  the  groans  of  the  dying.  Conversa- 
tion, such  as  there  was,  was  carried  on  in  low  tones  or 
in  a  whisper.  It  would  break  your  heart  to  look  in 
there.  Men,  as  well  as  I,  watched  by  the  sick  ;  while 
those  who  were  only  able  to  move  watched  by  the 
dying. 

"  Hard  sights  those.  They  would  turn  your  hair 
white  as  mine  is,  to  see  all  that  misery  and  cruelty." 

"What  about  the  wounded?"  I  asked,  after  the 
stranger  had  rested  for  a  time,  , 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  189 

"The  wounded  were  treated  like  the  rest.  They 
could  get  no  attendance.  The  surgeons  never  came  to 
our  relief.  Hundreds  of  men  were  lying  about  that 
lot,  only  a  quarter-mile  square,  dying  of  gangrene  and 
mortification,  without  relief,  except  what  we  well  ones 
could  give  them.  We,  who  had  nothing  ourselves,  not 
even  shirts  with  which  to  make  bandages,  and  no  water 
anywhere,  except  what  we  drank,  and  that  was  not  fit 
to  wash  a  wound  with. 

"  I  remember  one  poor  fellow — 't  was  just  after  I  was 
thrown  into  the  pen  that  I  met  him.  Such  sights  were 
new  to  me  then,  and  I  could  not  look  at  them  calmly. 
He  was  a  smart  young  fellow,  good  looking,  or  had 
been,  and  was  well  educated.  Anybody  could  have 
seen  that.  He  had  a  nice  home  in  Kentucky,  and  he 
used  to  tell  us  about  it,  that  is  before  he  lost  his  head. 
He  went  to  the  war  at  the  first  boom  of  cannon,  like 
the  rest  of  us,  and  they  caught  him  early  in  the  game. 

"  At  that  time  the  rebs  didn't  have  so  many  prisoners, 
and  what  they  did  have  fared  pretty  well.  Then  this 
young  fellow  was  strong  and  healthy  ;  but  when  more 
men  came  and  were  crowded  into  the  same  inclosure, 
things  got  rapidly  worse,  till  he  thought  he  couldn't 
stand  it  any  longer ;  then  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
escape,  and  he  did. 

"  He  only  got  as  far  as  northern  Tennessee,  when  he 
was  captured  by  a  band  of  guerrillas.  They  wouldn't 
have  got  him,  but  they  first  wounded  him  in  the  knee, 
and  he  couldn't  get  away.  He  was  sent  back  to  the 
pen  and  thrown  in  with  others,  and  there  I  found  him, 
lying  on  the  ground,  without  shelter,  without  food, 
without  medicine  and  fast  going  into  the  fever. 

"  For  days  we  watched  beside  him,  two  or  three 
others  and  myself,  bringing  him  dirty  water,  moldy 
bacon  and  musty  meal — queer  food,  for  a  dying  man — 


190  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

and  standing  up  that  he  might  have  the  benefit  of  our 
spare  shadows  when  the  sun  was  hottest. 

"  I  tell  you  boys,  't  was  hard.  I  raved  and  swore  and 
begged  the  guard  to  send  somebody,  to  do  something  ; 
but  they  wouldn't  listen.  'T  was  no  use ;  but  I  was 
new  to  the  place  and  didn't  know  men  could  be  so  in- 
human. 

"  The  night  following  the  second  day  after  I  found 
him — I  think  it  was  the  second  day — it  was  sweltering 
hot  and  the  air  was  terrible.  It  seemed  to  settle  down 
upon  us  like  an  invisible  blanket,  about  to  smother  us 
out  of  misery.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  men  went  mad  ? 
To  lie  there  on  such  nights  and  see  the  moon  rise 
bright  and  full  over  the  tops  of  the  dark,  motionless 
pines  !  Many  a  poor  fellow  stood  as  I  did,  watching 
the  great  shining  ball  roll  higher  and  higher,  and 
groaned  in  his  misery.  It  seemed  as  if  I  could  feel  the 
sweet,  cool  breezes  of  the  night,  away  off  among  the 
hills  where  that  moon  was  shining  ;  see  the  soft  mist 
steal  up  from  the  brooks  and  rivers,  and — let  me  see — 
where  was  I  ?  It  was  the  second  night,  and  after  the 
sun  had  been  down  about  two  hours  I  went  for  some 
water. 

"  When  I  came  back  there  were  half  a  dozen  men 
squatting  around  my  young  friend.  They  motioned 
me  to  stop  as  I  came  up.  I  looked  at  the  face  of  the 
dying  man.  The  moonlight  was  shining  in  his  eyes 
and  they  glistened  like  diamonds.  He  had  caught  sight 
of  me  and  called  me  in  a  loud  whisper,  seeming  to  take 
me  for  his  brother  : 

" '  Look,  Fred,  look  !     See  !     See  !'  " 

Fred  left  my  side  at  the  fire  and  drew  closer,  so  that 
not  a  syllable  of  the  stranger's  weak  voice  should 
escape  him.  The  stranger  continued  : 

"  What  he  saw  we  did  not  know.    Most  likely  't  was 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  191 

home,  poor  boy  ;  but  death  came  and  took  him.  The 
next  day  he  was  carted  off  among  the  usual  morning 
load  of  those  that  went  out  feet  foremost." 

The  stranger  ceased,  and  a  silence  which  we  could 
almost  feel  fell  upon  us.  I  looked  around  me.  The 
stranger  was  leaning  forward,  his  face  covered  with  his 
h^nds,  his  elbows  resting  on  his  sharp,  pointed  knees. 
He  was  exhausted  with  his  story. 

Our  fire  had  mostly  burned  out,  but  it  still  gave 
light  enough  for  me  to  see,  behind  the  circle  of  our  own 
mess,  seated  on  the  ground  or  standing,  bending  for- 
ward in  strained  attitudes,  a  deep  circle  of  men  from 
other  messes,  who  had,  unperceived,  come  up  to  listen. 

Fred,  who  was  half  kneeling  beside  the  stranger, 
watched  him  earnestly,  as  if  waiting  for  him  to  speak 
again.  At  last  he  said,  in  a  husky  whisper  : 

"  What  was  his  name  ?" 

"  Charles  Nichols,"  replied  the  stranger.  "  He  told 
me  he  had  a  brother  in  a  Ken — 

But  Fred  waited  to  hear  no  more.  He  arose  and 
hurried  away  into  the  darkness  of  the  woods,  whither  I 
followed  him. 

Fred  was  a  surer  shot  with  his  rifle  after  that. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

When  Atlanta  fell  into  our  hands,  in  August,  there 
was  a  work  of  reorganization  to  be  done.  This  great 
manufacturing  center  of  the  South  must  become  a 
military  post  and  nothing  more.  As  a  means  to  this 
end,  all  the  civil  inhabitants  were  forced  to  leave  ;  they 
could  go  South  or  North  as  best  suited  them,  but  go 
they  must. 

The  majority,  clinging  to  the  Confederate  cause,  went 
South,  taking  with  them,  in  long  wagon  trains,  all  their 
belongings.  In  a  short  time  there  was  not  a  family 
left  in  Atlanta. 

The  streets  were  filled  with  marching  troops  and 
rumbling  wagon  trains.  The  largest  buildings  groaned 
under  the  weight  of  provisions  stored  there.  .  The  post- 
office  was  opened  and  run  by  soldier  clerks.  Bakeries, 
blacksmith  shops,  machine  and  carpenter  shops,  oper- 
ated by  soldier  mechanics,  were  running  night  and  day, 
and  the  city  at  once  became  a  workshop,  in  which  the 
wants  of  Sherman's  army  were  promptly  and  satisfac- 
torily supplied. 

Meanwhile  we  were  resting  on  our  arms  at  Decatur, 
in  Northern  Alabama,  and  in  the  midst  of  plenty. 

In  the  second  half  of  September  rumors  of  Confeder- 
ate activity  spread  through  our  camp.  We  learned 
[192] 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  193 

that  Hood  had  met  and  conferred  with  Jefferson  Davis 
at  Palmetto,  and  that  Forrest,  the  Confederate  cavalry 
leader,  was  disturbing-  our  friends  in  east  Tennessee 

Soon  it  became  apparent  that  an  attempt  would  be 
made  to  break  up  the  railroad,  which  was  our  line  of 
communication  with  the  north.  The  whole  army  was 
immediately  in  motion,  and  leaving  the  Twentieth 
Corps  as  a  guard  to  Atlanta,  we  started  on  the  back 
track  to  Marietta. 

When  in  the  neighborhood  of  Kenesaw,  we  heard 
sounds  of  heavy  firing  away  to  the  north  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Alatoona,  a  railroad  point  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance to  keep  in  our  possession.  If  the  enemy 
captured  this  place  our  line  of  communication  would 
not  only  be  broken  but  a  million  rations,  which  were 
stored  there,  would  also  be  lost. 

At  Kenesaw,  our  corps  branched  off,  marching  along 
the  Burnt  Hickory  turnpike  to  the  west,  burning  bushes 
and  hayricks  as  we  went,  to  show  Sherman,  who  was 
watching  from  the  side  of  Kenesaw,  what  progress  we 
were  making. 

We  did  not  meet  the  enemy,  and  to  us  it  seemed  that 
the  movement  had  been  of  little  use,  as  the  next  day 
we  learned  that  Alatoona  was  perfectly  safe.  Hood 
had  threatened  Rome,  then  Resaca,  and  we  followed 
him  closely.  From  Resaca  we  marched  southwest 
along  the  Coosa  River,  reconnoitering  and  foraging 
and  on  the  2oth  or  2ist  of  October  pitched  our  camp 
near  Cedar  Bluffs. 

Hood  had  departed  from  the  railroad,  and  we  next 
heard  of  him  before  Decatur  and  still  later  that  he  was 
concentrating  his  forces  near  Florence,  also  in  Alabama, 
on  the  north  bank  of  the  Tennessee  River. 

Sherman's  army  was  scattered  all  the  way  from 
Chattanooga,  which  General  Thomas  held,  down  the 


194  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

railroad  to  Atlanta.  Every  exposed  point  was  fortified 
with  blockhouses  or  redoubts  and  strongly  garrisoned. 

Hood  was  not  our  equal  in  strength  and  showed  no 
disposition  to  attack  us,  but  was  quietly  concentrating 
and  organizing  at  Florence.  Just  what  hi£  purpose 
was,  we  did  not  know,  but  it  was  rumored  that  he  had 
in  view  an  advance  into  Eastern  Tennessee. 

We,  in  the  heart  of  Georgia,  with  one  hand  on  the 
the  main  artery  of  the  South,  knowing  that  Hood  was 
not  strong  enough  to  drive  us  out,  felt  that  his  object 
was  to  entice  us  away.  If  he  succeeded  and  lured  us 
back  to  Tennessee  our  toil  for  the  summer  was  thrown 
away.  What  would  grow  out  of  the  situation  was  a 
puzzling  question. 

As  a  rule,  soldiers,  especially  veterans,  if  they  are 
well-fed  and  officered  by  men  whom  they  respect, 
rarely  bother  their  heads  about  plans  for  the  future. 
The  only  time  when  they  departed  from  this  rule,  to 
any  extent,  was  at  this  crisis,  when  Sherman  himself 
seemed  in  doubt.  At  this  time  the  possibilities  of  and 
projects  for  the  future  were  being  thoroughly  can- 
vassed. 

By  the  ist  of  November  Sherman  had  reached  a 
determination  in  regard  to  the  Twenty-third  Corps,  at 
least.  The  Fourth  Corps  [Stanley's],  15,000  men,  had 
been  sent  to  reinforce  Thomas,  at  Nashville.  On  the 
3ist  of  October  we,  the  Twenty- third  Corps,  under 
Schofield,  12,000  men,  were  ordered  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. At  Resaca,  Cooper's  division  halted  ;  but  Cox's 
division  pushed  on. 

We  entered  again  into  the  outlying  spurs  and  well- 
constructed  earth-works  of  Dalton,  and,  halting  near  the 
railroad,  waited  for  transportation,  northward,  through 
Buzzard's  Roost  Gap,  to  Nashville. 

There  was  hardly  a  moment  of   the  day  or  night 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  195 

when  we  did  not  hear  the  "puff-puff  "  of  locomotives 
drawing  heavily  loaded  trains  through  the  town  or  the 
shrill  whistle  of  others  dashing  through  the  Gap  to  the 
north  and  around  the  curves  and  spurs  of  Rocky  Face 
Ridge. 

Sherman  was  sending  back  all  his  stores  in  Atlanta, 
all  his  sick,  wounded  and  disabled  and  all  his  baggage. 
There  was  life  enough  along  the  railroad  in  these  hur- 
rying days,  when  endless  trains  went  rattling  and  slam- 
ming by,  headed  for  the  North,  trailing  behind  them 
banners  of  smoke  and  steam  ;  and  when  trains  return- 
ing from  the  North  brought  recruits,  ammunition  and 
returning  furloughed  men. 

While  waiting,  we  often  went  to  the  road  to  watch 
this  constant  flowing  stream  of  war.  And  when  a  train 
of  wounded  men  stopped  near  us  we  offered  what 
assistance  we  could.  Many  a  sad  sight  we  saw.  In 
box-cars,  half  full  of  straw  or  brush,  lay  sick  and 
wounded,  some  with  arms  or  legs  or  heads  tied  up, 
pale  and  sunken  faces  distorted  with  pain.  Here  and 
there  lay  one  raving  with  fever.  There  were  always 
water  to  be  brought  and  little  things  to  be  done,  which 
were  works  of  mercy,  and  which  we  could  do  well 
enough  to  assist  the  tired,  overworked  surgeons  and 
nurses. 

And  what  a  change  was  there  when,  perhaps,  the 
same  train  returned  with  recruits  and  furloughed  men. 
The  open  doors  of  the  box-cars  would  be  filled  with 
eager  faces  of  green  recruits,  sturdy  but  inexperienced, 
looking  far  away  before  them,  as  if  they  expected  to 
see  the  surrounding  hills  sparkling  with  fire. 

On  the  3d  or  4th  of  November  a  train  ran  in  bound 
north,  bearing  soldiers  looking  hale  and  hearty.  They 
were  Cooper's  division  of  our  corps,  who  had  taken  the 
cars  at  Resaca.  It  was  four  days  after  they  disappeared 


196  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

through  the  Gap  before  we  procured  transportation 
and  followed  them,  through  Buzzard's  Roost  and  Ring- 
gold,  travelling  over  the  old  ground. 

As  we  rattled  and  jolted  slowly  northward,  it  seemed 
to  us  that  the  war  was  drawing  to  a  close.  We  had 
read  of  the  Confederate  army  penned  in  around  Peters- 
burg, and  we  knew  that  the  authorities  at  Richmond 
would  not  permit  Atlanta  to  fall  into  our  hands  with- 
out sending  assistance,  if  assistance  could  be  spared. 

We  read,  too,  of  Sheridan  flying  up  and  down  the 
valley  of  the  Shenandoah.  The  stories  of  his  exploits 
reminded  us  of  our  Fitzpatrick,  and  we  enjoyed  them. 

Mobile  had  fallen.  No  troops  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Mississippi  were  available  to  the  enemy.  Their 
forts  on  the  sea-coast  had  also  been  mostly  taken. 
Fort  Fisher  alone  was  hostile. 

We  had  left  General  Sherman  behind  us,  making 
preparations  for  a  grand  undertaking,  which  we  knew 
would  not  be  long  delayed.  He  was  going  to  the  sea, 
If  he  succeeded — and  not  a  man  among  us  doubted  it — 
a  broad  road  of  ruin  would  be  laid  from  border  to 
border,  directly  through  the  heart  of  the  would-be 
Southern  nation.  What  could  there  be  left  for  the  Con- 
federacy ?  The  stars  and  bars  were  floating  now  over  a 
disheartened  but  desperate  country — a  nation  whose 
actual  possessions  were  rapidly  melting  away — a  nation 
on  paper  only. 

In  due  time  we  were  landed  in  Pulaski,  Tennessee. 
With  us  there  were  Stanley's  Fourth  Corps.  To  the 
south  of  us  our  cavalry,  under  Hatch,  Croxton  and 
Capron,  was  scouring  the  country  and  watching  Hood, 
who  was  still  in  Florence,  organizing  and  preparing. 
Strickland's  brigade  of  our  division  of  the  Twenty- 
third  Corps  was  in  camp  at  Columbia,  a  town  behind 
us,  on  the  road  to  Nashville,  where  General  Thomas 


THE     GUN-BEARER. 


197 


was  drilling  recruits.  There,  too,  was  Wilson's  dis- 
mounted cavalry  [10,000  men],  and  thither  General  A 
J.  Smith  was  hastening  from  Missouri,  with  perhaps 
10,000  more. 

Hood,  meanwhile,  showed  no  decided  signs  of  mov- 
ing. He  had,  no  doubt,  intended  to  be  on  the  march 
before,  but  all  his  preparations  were  delayed  by  the 
wretched  condition  of  the  single  track  railroad  over 
which  his  provisions  and  stores  had  to  be  transported, 
and  by  the  state  of  the  country,  which  was  softened  by 
rains  and  flooded  by  swollen  rivers. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Sherman  had,  at  last,  gone  south  and  east,  without  a 
foe  in  his  path.  Hood,  with  fifty  thousand  men,  had 
left  Alabama,  was  slowly  working  his  way  north,  aim- 
ing toward  Pulaski  and,  just  now,  was  making  demon- 
strations on  Lawrenceburg  and  Waynesboro,  in  middle 
Tennessee.  We,  perhaps  ten  thousand  strong,  were 
expected,  so  it  afterward  appeared,  to  oppose  this  ad- 
vancement, and  give  General  Thomas  an  opportunity 
to  still  further  recruit  and  increase  his  army  at  Nash- 
ville. 

The  storms,  which  had  delayed  Hood  for  so  long  a 
time,  were  still  raging  ;  and,  while  they  had  been  for- 
tunate obstacles  to  his  movements,  they  had  also  proved 
equally  discouraging  to  us. 

A  shower,  or  even  a  rainy  day,  now  and  then,  was 
only  a  disagreeable  incident,  common  to  a  soldier's  life, 
and  to  be  expected  ;  but  these  cold,  continuous  storms 
of  rain,  sleet,  snow,  hail  and  wind  were  a  lasting  misery 
and  very  demoralizing. 

If  the  weather  had  been  all  we  had  to  contend  with, 
however,  we  might  have  endured  our  hardships  much 
better  than  we  did,  but  we  were  sadly  in  need  of  cloth- 
ing. Mine  was  worn  and  thin.  The  skirts  of  my  over- 
£198] 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  199 

coat  had  been  burned  in  a  dozen  places  by  coming 
too  near  the  fire.  A  goodly  number  of  us,  also,  were 
without  blankets.  Many  a  night,  in  stormy  weather, 
we  went  into  camp,  wet  and  muddy,  and  without  fire  or 
blankets  passed  the  night  in  sleepless  misery. 

When  we  were  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  enemy  far 
enough  away  to  indulge  in  a  fire,  I  have  stood  half  the 
night  smoking  my  pipe,  scorching,  burning  and  drying 
my  clothes,  trying  to  warm  myself  and,  at  last,  lie 
down  on  a  pile  of  green  boughs,  with  no  other  covering 
than  a  rubber  blanket,  and  shivered  myself  to  sleep. 

Rations,  too,  were  not  always  plenty,  and  while,  as 
yet,  we  had  not  been  compelled  to  do  without,  we  were 
far  from  being  well  fed,  and  sometimes  had  to  eke  out 
our  supply  of  food  with  such  forage  as  we  could  pick 
up  from  the  already  well  plundered  farmers  along  the 
road. 

The  few  families,  who  yet  remained  in  Pulaski,  had 
endured  the  hardships  of  war  with  a  half-starved, 
heroic  patience,  born  of  necessity.  This  town  had 
alternately  been  visited  and  robbed  by  both  Union  and 
Confederate  soldiers,  so  that  there  were  at  best  only 
small  pickings  for  us ;  but  though  the  people  were 
poor,  and  had  scarcely  provisions  enough  for  them- 
selves, when  any  of  our  boys  called  on  them  for  some- 
thing to  eat,  they  were  always  given  such  as  the  house 
afforded,  and  as  much  as  could  be  spared. 

Women  who  had  hitherto  been  waited  upon  were 
compelled  to  learn  the  art  of  serving  themselves,  and 
much  of  the  bitterness  reported  of  these  people  in  the 
early  part  of  the  war  had  disappeared  ;  their  pride  had 
been  humbled,  and  in  its  place  had  sprung  up  a  more 
respectful,  if  not  a  kindlier  feeling  toward  the  Union 
soldiers. 

We  were  well  informed  as  to  the  movements  of  the 


200  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

enemy,  our  information  coming,  for  the  most  part,  from 
scouts,  deserters  from  Hood's  army — who  occasionally 
came  into  our  lines — or  from  cavalrymen,  who  were 
continually  scouring  the  woods  in  front  of  us. 

The  most  positive  knowledge  concerning  Hood's 
movements  that  we  were  able  to  get  was  obtained 
from  an  old  negro,  who  came  into  our  lines  on  the 
night  of  the  2ist  of  November. 

Fred  and  Jake  and  I  were  on  picket,  and  stationed 
by  a  clump  of  bushes,  near  the  Lawrenceburg  Road. 
The  hour  was  hardly  later  than  ten,  when  our  attention 
was  attracted  by  a  low,  rumbling  noise,  away  up  the 
road,  coming  from  the  direction  of  the  enemy. 

The  sound  became  louder  and  more  distinct  as  it 
approached  us.  At  times  we  fancied  we  heard  voices. 
Was  it  possible  the  enemy  were  so  near  ?  And  were  they 
moving  toward  us  in  such  force  as  to  set  aside  all 
thought  of  a  surprise  ?  were  questions  we  asked  our- 
selves. 

We  strained  our  ears  to  listen  more  carefully  before 
sounding  an  alarm,  and  finally  convinced  ourselves  that 
the  noise  proceeded  from  a  rickety  wagon.  Later  we 
were  satisfied  there  was  but  one  voice,  and  shortly  after 
our  fears  were  allayed  by  seeing,  in  the  dim  starlight,  a 
man  standing  in  a  wagon,  belaboring  a  mule  with  a 
stick,  and  calling  out,  at  the  top  of  his  voice  : 

"  Git  along  dar,  you  mule  !     Git  along  dar,  git !" 

"  Reckon  I  'd  better  stop  that  fellow  where  he  is," 
said  Fred,  as  soon  as  the  team  came  within  hailing  dis- 
tance. 

"  No,  no  !"  I  responded.  "  Let  him  come  a  little 
nearer.  Let 's  see  who  the  fellow  is." 

"  Whack,  whack,  whack ! "  resounded  the  stick  as  it  struck 
the  "  cast-iron  back  "  of  the  mule,  while  the  wagon  rattled 
its  way  toward  us.  Finally,  Fred,  who  was  unable  to 


THE     GITN-BEARER.  201 

restrain  his  impatience  longer,  cried  out,  in  a  tone 
unusually  severe  for  him  : 

"  Halt !" 

"Golly!  Who  dar?  Wha-what  fs  dat  ?  What  's 
de  matter  ?  What  's  de  matter  ?"  replied  the  startled 
darkey,  as  he  gave  a  sudden  jerk  to  the  reins  which 
brought  his  animal  to  a  standstill. 

"  Who  goes  there  ?" 

"  Nuffin'  but  a  pore  ol'  nigga,  who  's  a-tryin'  ter  get 
away  from  de  rebels  and  to  jine  de  Yankees  !" 

"  What  do  you  want  to  join  the  Yankees  for  ?"  asked 
Fred. 

"  Kaze  I  does  !  I  done  got  a  heap  tired  ob  de  rebs, 
and  I 's  a  gwine  ter  jine  de  odder  side,  I  is  !" 

"  Well,  what  have  you  got  in  your  wagon  ;  anything 
to  eat  ?" 

"  Ain't  got  nuffin',  marse  boss,  but  a  few  ol'  rings, 
what  ain't  no  good  ter  nobody  but  a  pore  ol'  nigga  !" 

"  Drive  up  this  way.     Let 's  see  who  you  are." 

"  All  right,  marse  !  I  's  a  comin',  sho !  Git  along 
dar,  you  mule  !  Git  along  dar  !" 

Again  the  stick  was  brought  into  service  upon  the 
back  of  the  unimpressionable  mule  and  again  every 
bolt  and  rivet  in  the  old  wagon  clattered  and  rattled  as 
it  moved  toward  us. 

"There,"  said  Fred,  "stop  where  you  are." 

"  All  right,  marse  !  Tell  me  ;  is  you  de  Yankee 
soldiers  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Fred.     "  Where  are  you  from  ?" 

"  'Bout  two  miles  from  Lawrenceburg." 

"  What  are  you  running  away  for  ?  Don't  you  know 
the  Johnnies  are  not  within  nine  miles  of  you  ?" 

"  Gollies,  marse,  I  knows  dat  ;  but  dis  chile  's  power- 
ful afraid  of  a  flank  movemant.  Dat 's  what 's  de  matter 
wid  me." 


202  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  Where  are  the  Johnnies  now." 
"  Dey  was  in  de  'burg  this  morning-,  and  I  jest  got  up 
an'  skedaddled  'fo'  dey  had  de  time  ter  flank  me." 
"  Do  you  know  how  much  of  an  army  Hood  has  ?" 
"  I  don'  know,  Marse,  but  dey  has  a  heap  o'  men,  and 
dey's  jist  a  gwine  ter  do  a  heap  o'  flanking,  so  I  heerd 
de  white  people  sayin',  but  dey  don'  flank  this  chicken — 
not  much." 

•'  Where  did  you  hear  the  rebs  were  going  ?" 
•'  Dey 's  a  gwine  ter  git  in  the  raar  of  de  Yankees,  an* 
is  a  makin'  for  Duck  Ribber." 

"  Was  Hood's  army  moving  when  you  left." 
"  Yes,  an'  dey  was  on  deir  road  to  Pulaski." 
"  Was  the  whole  of  Hood's  army  moving  or  only  a 
portion  of  it  ?" 

"  I  heerd  dey  was  all  amovin'." 
"  Think  I'll  take  this  fellow  in,"  said  Fred. 
"  Drive  this  way  a  bit,  uncle,  and  I'll  go  with  you. 
Perhaps  the  captain  would  like  to  ask  a  few  questions." 
"  All,  right,  marse,  I'll  do  all  I  kin,  de  Lawd  knows. 
I  dunno  much,  but  I'll  tell  de  cap'n  dat  sho.     Git  along 
dar,  you  mule  ;  git  along  dar,  git !"  shouted  the  darkey 
to  his  mule  as  Fred  got  into  the  wagon,  which  soon 
disappeared  in  the  darkness,  down  the  road  toward 
camp. 

Shortly  after  Fred  returned  to  his  post,  and,  with  his 
welcome  presence,  brought  the  information  that  our 
wagon  trains  had  already  begun  to  leave  Pulaski,  were 
on  the  road  to  Columbia,  and  that  we  would  probably 
shake  the  mud  of  that  place  from  our  feet  before  long. 

A  little  after  daylight  next  morning  we  were  called 
in,  to  find  that  orders  had  been  given  for  the  entire 
force  to  fall  back  to  Lynnville,  a  little  place,  about  half 
way  between  Pulaski  and  Columbia.  Here  we  were 
joined  by  Wagner's  Division  of  the  Fourth  Corps,  and 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  203 

with  them  intrenched  ourselves  in  positions  covering 
the  road  leading  from  Lawrenceburg.  We  remained  at 
this  point  two  or  three  days,  and  it  was  while  we  were  here 
that  Black  Lige  disappeared.  Captain  Hartees  seemed 
to  take  the  matter  philosophically  enough,  and  said  that 
he  would  see  him  again  before  long  ;  that  his  wife  and 
children  lived  not  far  from  Columbia. 

On  the  night  of  the  23d  we  left  our  intrenchments 
and  fell  back  to  Hurricane,  which  is  ten  miles  farther 
north,  and  toward  Columbia.  • 

Jake,  who  was  one  of  the  first  to  get  the  news  of  this 
movement,  came  up  to  the  fire,  where  a  little  group  of 
us  were  making  preparations  for  breakfast,  and  said : 

"  We  've  got  to  move  again,  boys.  I  tell  you  what, 
we  ain't  got  nothing  to  say  about  Hood  not  being 
smart.  He 's  turning  the  tables  on  us  with  a  vengeance. 
We  don't  no  sooner  get  settled  in  a  place  than  we  have 
to  get.  Just  the  same  as  Johnston  did  before  Sher- 
man." 

"  Where  are  we  going  now  ?"  I  asked,  as  soon  as  I 
could  get  a  word  in. 

"To  Hurricane.  Hood's  a  chasin'  us  up  mighty 
sharp,  you  bet.  He  's  a-getting  over  the  roads  after  us 
about  as  fast  as  we  can  get  out  of  his  way.  If  we  keep 
on  at  this  rate  we  '11  see  Nashville  soon,  I  'm  thinking." 

"  Yes ;  but  we  're  not  going  to  see  it  without  first 
having  a  fight  that  11  be  a  bad  one  for  Hood,"  inter- 
rupted Kimball,  as  he  calmly  blew  the  ashes  off  a 
roasted  potato,  which  he  very  mysteriously  produced 
from  the  hot  ashes  near  the  edge  of  the  fire. 

"  Fight !"  repeated  Jake,  abstractedly,  as  his  eye 
fastened  on  the  potato.  "  Fight !  Where  'd  you  get 
that  potato  ?" 

Here  everybody  laughed  at  the  sudden  change  in 
Jake's  manner — from  a  grumbling  tone  of  voice  to  that 


204  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

of  a  person  intensely  interested  in  something  to  eat. 
But  he  recovered  quickly,  and  resumed  : 

"  If  we  are  ever  going  to  do  any  more  fighting,  it 's 
about  time  we  were  at  it.  It 's  mighty  discouraging — 
this  weather,  not  enough  to  eat,  and  a  running  away 
from  a  lot  of  graybacks,  that  haven't  known  in  a  long 
time  what  it  was  to  win  a  fight.  No  wonder  we  haven't 
seen  the  sun  since  the  day  we  left  Pulaski.  I  'm  dogged 
if  I  don't  believe  he  's  ashamed  to  shine  on  us  for  sneak- 
ing away  from  the  enemy  all  the  time." 

"  Keep  cool,  Jake  ;  keep  cool,  my  boy,"  replied  Kim- 
ball,  breaking  the  roasted  potato  in  half,  and  handing 
one  of  the  pieces  to  his  grumbling  comrade. 

"  '  Nebber  min*  de  wedder  so  de  win'  don'  blow; 
Don'  yer  bodder  'bout  yer  trouble  till  it  comes.' 

"  We  '11  get  all  the  fighting  we  want  before  we  reach 
Nashville,  don't  you  worry." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

We  started  early  in  the  afternoon  for  Hurricane, 
which  we  reached  late  that  night.  A  little  before  day- 
break, on  the  following  morning,  we  were  aroused  by 
musketry  firing,  west  of  us  and  immediately  were  in 
rapid  motion  toward  it.  After  marching  a  little  more 
than  two  miles  through  the  woods,  we  came  in  fall 
view  of  an  engagement  between  Forrest's  cavalry  and 
a  part  of  Stanley's  command. 

"  It  's  a  cavalry  fight,"  said  Jake  ;  "  and  we  ain't  here 
any  too  quick  for  'em  either.  Our  boys  are  backing 
out.  See  !" 

We  had  hardly  discovered  this  fact  when  we  heard 
firing  from  the  right  of  our  own  line.  Simultaneously 
came  the  order : 

"  Column,  front  into  line  !" 

"  Now  Mr.  Johnnie,  look  out,"  said  Kimball. 

"  Fix  bayonets  !" 

"  That  's  business,"  said  Jake,  as  the  click  and  clatter 
which  immediately  followed  this  order,  ran  up  and 
down  the  line.  "  If  we  can't  make  Johnnie  Reb  skee- 
dadle,  this  time,  we  'd  better  go  home." 

"  Forward,  double  quick,  march  !" 

There  were  no  laggards  at  that  command  ;  every 
man  was  in  his  place,  all  anxious  to  make  the  most  of 

[205] 


206  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

an  opportunity  to  drive  the  enemy  back.     After  reach- 
ing easy  range,  came  the  command  : 

"  Halt !     Load  and  fire  at  will  !     Load  !" 

"  Now  then  !"  said  vFred,  as  he  tore  away  the  flap  of 
a  cartridge  with  his  teeth.  "  We  '11  show  'em  what  's 
what !" 

By  this  time  a  rapidly  increasing  fire,  from  the  whole 
length  of  our  line,  was  being  poured  into  the  ranks  of 
the  enemy ;  who,  dismayed  and  bewildered  at  the 
sudden  appearance  of  a  force  they  evidently  had  not 
counted  on,  speedily  fell  back  in  great  confusion.  The 
punishment  inflicted  being  so  severe  that  they  did  not 
again  trouble  us. 

Later  we  fell  back  to  Columbia,  where  we  threw  up 
breastworks  and  otherwise  strongly  intrenched  our- 
selves south  of  the  town. 

Most  of  us  were  heartily  sick  of  Hood's  flank  move- 
ments. To  make  ready  for  an  enemy  and  then  not 
have  him  do  as  you  want  him  to  is  vexatious  enough 
when  it  occurs  only  once  in  a  while  ;  but  when  it  hap- 
pens right  along,  without  any  change  whatever, 
the  life  of  a  soldier  becomes  monotonous  in  the  ex- 
treme. 

We  were  all  anxious  to  bring  matters  to  a  crisis  ;  to 
force  a  condition  of  things  where  our  position  would, 
in  a  measure,  balance  Hood's  greater  numerical  strength 
'  and  where  he  would  be  compelled  to  fight.  The  work 
we  had  just  completed  at  this  place  seemed  to  me  all 
that  could  be  desired  for  this  purpose,  and  I  suggested 
the  probability  of  meeting  the  enemy  and  having  our 
trial  with  him  here. 

"  You  wait  !"  responded  Jake.  "  Wait  till  Hood  comes 
up  with  his  force  and  sees  what  we  've  been  doing. 
There  's  nothing  to  prevent  him  from  flanking  us  here, 
same  as  he  's  done  in  other  places.  We  '11  have  to  get 


THE     GUN-BEARER. 

out  here  in  a  hurry  before  long-,  I  'm  thinking  ;  then  all 
this  dirt  digging  goes  for  nothing." 

"  Well,"  said  Fred  in  reply,  "  we  can't  help  it,  if  we 
do  have  to  get  out.  I  hope,  though,  we  '11  reach  a 
place  before  long  where  we  can  give  Hood  a  warming. 
He 's  stronger  than  we,  to  be  sure,  and  't  would  be  fool- 
ish enough  to  try  and  break  him  up  until  we  have 
Thomas's  army  to  help  us.  We  can  punish  him  badly, 
though,  if  we  are  well  intrenched  and  he  ever  gives  us 
the  chance."  . 

Jake  gave  a  grunt  of  disapproval  and  turned  away. 
He  did  not  "  take  stock  "  in  Hood's  ever  giving  us  that 
chance  ;  but  Kimball  did  and  quickly  responded  : 

"  He  '11  give  us  all  the  chance  we  want,  sure 's  my 
name  's  Kimball,  and  that,  too,  before  we  reach  Thomas. 
He  won't  content  himself  by  doing  as  Sherman  did. 
He  '11  try  and  do  better — be  smarter,  like." 

Our  well-defended  front  kept  the  enemy  quiet  for  a 
long  time ;  but  on  the  night  of  the  25th  there  were 
whisperings  of  a  flank  movement.  Shortly  after,  in 
company  with  another  brigade  we  left  our  intrench- 
ments  and  marched  through  Columbia  to  Duck  River, 
which  we  crossed  on  the  pontoons. 

The  stream  at  this  place  describes  a  sharp  curve,  and ' 
the  point  upon  which  we  were  halted  and  expected  to 
defend,  if  need  be,  was  partly  surrounded  by  the  frown- 
ing bluffs  on  the  Columbia  side.     The  next  morning  we 
were  again  called  up  to  handle  the  pick  and  shovel. 

Breastworks  were  thrown  up  a  little  way  from  the 
river  bank,  but  the  position  was  one  of  the  worst  that 
could  have  been  selected.  Do  what  we  might,  there 
was  absolutely  no  protection  for  us.  We  were  on  noth- 
ing like  an  even  footing  with  the  enemy. 

I  never  had  found  a  great  deal  of  fault  with  places 
that  had  heretofore  been  selected  as  best  suited  for 


208  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

defense,  because,  for  one  good  reason,  I  did  not,  for  a 
long  time,  know  much  about  these  things  ;  and,  sec- 
ondly, I  was  never  much  of  a  faultfinder  on  any  occa- 
sion ;  but  I  could  not  help  ventilating  my  opinion  as  to 
this  position. 

I  had  learned  something  in  my  past  six  months  of 
active  army  life — something  of  movements  and  defensi- 
ble positions,  and  was  thereby  enabled  to  talk  under- 
standingly  at  this  time  and  on  this  particular  subject. 
A  man,  without,  any  special  knowledge  of  such  matters, 
could  have  seen,  at  a  glance,  the  position  we  then  occu- 
pied could  not  be  held.  In  reply  to  what  I  had  to  say 
on  the  subject,  Fred  said  : 

"  It  's  a  fact,  Dan,  it  's  not  much  of  a  place  for 
intrenchments  ;  and,  for  the  life  of  me,  I  can't  see  the 
use  of  wasting  labor  here  when  we  might  do  better 
farther  on.  Orders  are  orders,  though  ;  and  whether 
they  're  for  good  or  for  bad,  we  've  got  to  obey  them." 

"  I  reckon  Hood  '11  make  mincemeat  of  us  if  he  catches 
us  in  this  fix,"  remarked  Jake,  who  had  been  listening 
to  our  conversation.  "Just  see  what  a  chance  for  a 
cross-fire  of  artillery,"  pointing  to  the  hight  bluff  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river.  "  Why,  they  can  just  toss  per- 
cussion shell  on  to  our  heads  if  they  want  to,  and  we 
can't  help  ourselves.  Just  after  breakfast  I  heard  that 
the  whole  of  our  army  was  going  to  leave  the  works  on 
the  other  side  to-night,  and  come  over  here." 

"  What  else  can  they  do  ?"  responded  Fred.  "  They 
can't  hold  out  against  Hood's  whole  army." 

"  No,"  I  don't  expect  they  can,"  answered  Jake. 
"  Neither  do  I  expect  Hood's  army  is  going  to  give  'em 
much  of  a  chance,  if  they  wanted  to  fight  ever  so  bad. 
I  '11  tell  you  what,  boys.  I  'm  getting  sick  of  this.  I  'd 
a  heap  rather  fight  than  dig  dirt." 

"  Well,  Jake,  you  '11  soon  have  a  chance,"  said  Kim- 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  209 

ball,  "  they  're  having  a  little  skirmish  now,  along  the 
line,  outside  the  town.  Don't  you  hear  them  ?  That 
sounds  as  if  Hood  was  drawing  in  on  our  front, 
don't  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  hear  'em,"  said  Jake,  as  he  rested  his  foot  on 
his  spade,  a  moment,  "  but  that  don't  signify  anything. 
He  's  just  thrown  out  a  few  skirmishers  to  hold  our 
attention  while  the  balance  of  his  army  is  working 
around  in  our  rear.  I  'm  afraid  it  's  only  another 
signal  for  us  to  fall  back  again." 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  if  it  is,"  said  Fred.  "  This  is  a 
little  the  worst  place  for  a  stand  that  I  ever  got  into." 
Every  one  echoed  this  sentiment,  but,  as  usual,  we  kept 
at  our  work  until  it  was  finished. 

Late  that  night,  I  awoke  shivering  with  the  cold, 
and  had  to  get  up  and  move  around  to  warm  myself, 
for  we  dare  not  have  any  fires  now.  The  river  and  the 
high  bank  on  the  opposite  side  were  shrouded  in  gloom. 
I  could  see  nothing  in  this  inky  blackness,  but  on  one 
side,  I  could  hear  the  tramp,  tramp,  tramp  of  infantry, 
crossing  the  railroad  bridge,  and  on  the  other  side,  the 
scuffle  of  many  feet  on  the  pontoons. 

As  I  stood  listening  to  the  various  sounds  of  the 
night,  I  heard  a  familiar  voice  singing,  softly — 

"  I  '11  be  dar, 

I  '11  be  dar, 

Wen  dejudgmen'  roll  is  call, 

I  '11  be  dar." 

"  Ho,  Lige  !"  I  called.     "  Is  that  you  ?" 
"  Yes,  Maws  Dan." 
"  Where  Ve  you  been  ?" 
"  Been  home  ter  see  my  wife." 
"  See  her  ?" 

"Yes.  She 's  dar  still.  Hed  a  powerful  good  time, 
Maws  Dan  !  Powerful  good  time  !" 


210  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  Where  's  Hood  ?" 

"  He  's  a  gwine  ter  work  around  in  our  raar.  Gwine 
ter  cross  de  ribber  above  here  a  piece  and  git  in  'tween 
us  an'  Nashville.  Here,  Maws  Dan,  take  dis  !  Dinah 
bake  dat  dis  mawnin'." 

I  held  out  my  hand  in  the  darkness  and  received  a 
spongy  substance,  which  proved  to  be  a  most  delicious 
corn  pone. 

"They  've  got  us  in  a  box  here,  Lige  !"  I  said  ;  but 
he  was  gone,  and  I  heard  him,  as  he  vanished  in  the 
darkness,  singing,  as  usual,  to  himself  : 

"  Nebber  min'  de  wedder  so  de  win'  don'  blow." 

There  was  a  peculiar  philosophy  for  me  in  that  song, 
and,  as  I  ate  my  corn  pone  before  going  to  sleep,  I 
determined  not  to  bother  about  trouble  until  it  came. 

In  the  gray  of  the  early  morning,  while  moving 
farther  down  the  stream,  we  discovered  that  the  whole 
of  our  little  army  had  crossed  the  river  in  the  night 
and  that  the  bridges,  over  which  they  had  passed,  had 
disappeared. 

We  reached  our  new  position  and  had  intrenched 
ourselves  in  it  by  sunrise.  The  sky  was  dark  and 
cloudy,  and  the  deep  shadows  of  night  still  lingered  in 
the  chill  mists  that  clung  to  the  trees  on  both  sides  of 
the  river.  Fred  and  I  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  bank, 
gazing  up  and  down  the  stream  ;  everything  was  so 
quiet  on  the  opposite  side  that  we  had  no  thought  of 
danger  here.  Just  at  this  moment,  however,  Captain 
Hartees,  who  had  come  up,  unobserved,  behind  us, 
shouted : 

"  Look  out,  boys — down  !" 

We  three  dropped  to  earth,  instantly  ;  and  almost  at 
the  same  instant  two  reports  from  the  thick  woods 
above  us,  on  the  other  side,  followed  by  the  "  zip,  zip  "  of 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  211 

two  bullets  passing  harmlessly  over  our  heads,  ex- 
plained the  importance  of  the  caution. 

"  Close  rub  that,  cap'n,"  said  Fred. 

"  Got  to  keep  your  eyes  open  sharp,"  replied  Hartees, 
as  he  arose  and  quickly  disappeared  through  the  woods 
in  our  rear. 

"  Queer,"  said  Fred,  as  he  turned  and  looked  after 
the  captain,  "  queer ;  that  man  's  always  around  when 
we  're  in  danger.  Come,  we  can't  follow  his  advice  any 
too  quickly  ;  let 's  get  out  of  this.  There  's  another." 
A  flash,  a  little  puff  of  smoke,  a  report,  and  another 
whistling  evidence  that  the  enemy  were  watching  hur- 
ried us  back  to  the  shelter  of  our  rifle  pits,  where  we 
were  content  to  await  further  developments. 

Later  in  the  forenoon  a  succession  of  brighter  flashes, 
from  the  woods  skirting  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  followed 
by  clouds  of  smoke,  the  roar  of  cannon  and  the  shrill 
piping  shell,  announced  that  the  enemy  had  his  artillery 
in  position  and  was  disposed  to  use  it.  Still  later,  our 
own  artillery  behind  us,  replied  to  the  enemy's  fire,  and 
kept  it  up  at  intervals  throughout  the  day. 

It  was  an  artillery  duel,  with  a  stream  of  water 
separating  the  combatants ;  but  with  the  exception  of 
making  a  deafening  roar,  neither  side  enjoyed  any 
peculiar  advantage  over  the  other: 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  during  a  lull  in  the  firing, 
some  one  shouted : 

"  Look,  the  Johnnies  are  coming  out  of  the  woods  ! 
They  are  running  down  the  bank  and  are  going  to 
cross." 

"  Fact !"  said  Fred,  peering  through  the  bushes  in 
front  of  us.  "  And  they  're  bringing  their  pontoons 
with  them." 

"  How  many  are  there  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Perhaps  two  or  three  regiments,"  answered  Fred. 


212  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  May  be  there  are  more.  Look  out !  There  goes  the 
artillery  again,  to  cover  'em.  Let  'em  fire  if  they  want 
to  ;  it  won't  do  'em  any  good." 

"  What  's  the  matter  with  our  own  batteries  ?"  I 
asked,  noting  that  the  firing  was  all  from  one  side. 

"  Oh  they  '11  get  'round  to  it  later — but  what  's  that 
going  on  there  over  on  the  other  side  ?" 

"  Why,  what  do  you  see  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  see  anything  now,  but  I  thought 
I  saw  a — a — yes  and  by  Jove  I  did  see  it  too ;"  said 
Fred,  excitedly  pulling  back  the  hammer  to  his  rifle 
which  he  raised  to  a  level  with  the  earth  in  front  of  us. 
"  See  there,  will  you,  over  there  by  that  little  open 
space  in  the  woods,  and  on  a  line  with  that  chimney 
above  ;  see  'em,  the  Johnnies,  they  're  coming  down  the 
hill,  and,  as  sure  's  you  live,  they  're  going  to  cross. 
Now  's  our  time,  Dan,  let  's  put  in  some  good  work, 
my  boy,  while  we  have  a  chance.  There  's  one  of  'em 
now.  Just  keep  your  eye  on  that  fellow  in  the  lead ; 
the  one  with  the  pole  on  his  shoulder,  I  mean." 

Looking  in  the  direction  indicated,  I  saw,  among  a  lot 
of  stalwart  fellows  coming  down  the  hill  and  struggling 
through  the  thick  underbrush,  which  at  that  point 
reached  the  water's  edge,  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a 
man,  made  more  conspicuous  than  his  comrades  by  a 
stout  pole  he  carried  on  his  shoulder.  While  watching, 
I  heard  the  crack  of  my  companion's  rifle,  and  instantly 
saw  this  man  stumble  and  fall. 

"  How  was  that,  Dan  ?     Did  I  hit  him  ?" 

"  Think  you  did,"  I  replied  ;  "  he  fell  over  as  soon  as 
you  fired,  and  those  who  were  with  him  disappeared  at 
the  same  time." 

We  '11  just  lay  for  those  fellows,  now,  and  give  'em  a 
warming.  They  will  break  cover  directly,  and  we  '11 
have  a  good  whack  at  'em  before  they  get  away." 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  213 

Presently  the  enemy  appeared  near  the  water's  edge 
with  their  pontoons,  which  were  quickly  launched, 
loaded,  pushed  off  and  started  in  an  oblique  line  for  our 
side  of  the  river.  Fred  and  I  fired  again  and  again,  but 
with  what  effect  we  could  not  see,  the  enemy  working 
hurriedly,  paying  no  regard  to  us. 

"  Well,"  said  Fred,  speculatively,  as  he  eyed  the  cross- 
ing boats,  "  they  're  not  going  to  land  here,  at  all  events. 
They  '11  bring  up  somewhere  below  us,  I  'm  thinking." 

I  confessed  I  was  not  sorry  ;  for,  with  our  scattered 
line  in  the  pits,  we  could  not  hold  out  against  any  body 
of  men.  It  was  true  there  was  not  more  than  a 
brigade  of  the  enemy,  at  most ;  but  they  were  to- 
gether. 

The  boats  soon  passed  from  sight,  under  cover  of  the 
bank,  and  it  was  not  until  toward  dusk  that  we  heard 
anything  more  of  them.  Then  a  rapid  succession  of 
shots  gave  signal  for  "the  rebel  yell,"  which  was 
answered  by  loud  shouts  from  the  heights  on  the  oppo- 
site side,  supplemented,  in  turn,  by  a  roar  of  artillery 
and  small  arms. 

*'  That  's  business,"  said  Fred,  "  and  if  there  were 
more  of  them  it  might  be  just  as  well  for  us  if  we  got 
out  of  this ;  but  they  can't  spread,  they  '11  lose  their 
grip  if  they  do." 

"  Sounds  as  if  our  skirmishers  were  on  the  run." 

"  Of  course  they  are.  They  '11  fall  back  until  they 
reach  the  main  line,  and  then,  Mister  Johnnie,  look 
out." 

At  this  moment  the  enemy's  battery  ceased  firing, 
and  we  could  hear  our  men  contesting  every  inch  of 
the  way  in  their  retreat.  Later,  the  tone  of  the  shout- 
ing was  changed,  and  we  heard  the  welcome  shouts  of 
the  reinforced  skirmishers,  who  were  now  returning 
and  driving  the  Confederates  before  them. 


214  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

As  the  noise  of  the  conflict  drew  nearer,  some  of  the 
boys  began  to  leave  their  pits,  when  Hartees  shouted  : 

"  Down,  every  mother's  son  of  you  !  Don't  let  a  man 
leave  his  post  until  he  gets  orders  !" 

"  That 's  the  thing  to  do  always,"  said  Fred.  "  Better 
be  in  the  reserve  all  day  and  stay  there  until  you  're 
wanted,  than  rush  into  a  fight  when  you  're  not  needed. 
Rosseau  's  got  all  the  help  he  wants  to  run  the  Johnnies 
into  the  river." 

More  and  more  distinct  became  the  tramp  of  feet  ; 
louder  and  nearer  grew  the  rattle  of  musketry,  as 
pursuers  and  pursued  approached  the  bank  of  the 
river.  Finally  the  tramping  ceased,  and  a  line  of 
flashes  from  the  rifles  of  our  troops  seemed  to  say  : 

"  The  enemy  have  reached  the  water  and  we  're  do- 
ing our  level  best  to  drive  them  into  it." 

Almost  immediately  the  artillery  from  the  other  side 
again  opened  on  us,  and  we  were  compelled  to  lie  low 
and  keep  out  of  the  way.  This  time,  too,  our  guns  re- 
sponded to  the  fire  and,  I  fancied,  with  rather  more 
spirit  than  before. 

It  is  tedious  business  to  be  compelled  to  fold  your 
hands  and  submit  to  inactivity  in  a  rifle  pit,  but  there  's 
no  help  for  it  when  a  battery,  stationed  a  short  distance 
in  your  rear,  is  keeping  up  an  incessant  firing  over  your 
heads.  The  roar  of  cannon,  the  scream  and  hiss  and 
shriek  of  flying  lead  and  iron,  the  uncontrollable  feeling 
of  dread  and  doubt,  .intensified  by  every  bursting  shell, 
maddens  and  keeps  the  nerves  strained  to  their  utmost. 
But  we  had  no  choice  in  the  matter,  and  there  we  lay, 
smoked  our  pipes  and  listened  and  shivered  and  waited. 

After  a  while  our  fire  slackened  considerably  and 
finally  ceased  altogether.  Still  later  we  heard  a  few 
orders  given,  which  were  quickly  followed  by  the  move- 
ments of  "limbering  up,"  then  the  familiar  cluck  of 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  215 

gun- carriage  wheels,  growing  fainter  and  fainter  as  the 
battery  moved  away. 

"  Thank  heaven,  they  're  gone  !"  said  Fred,  a  few 
moments  after  their  departure.  "  I  'm  tired  of  artillery 
fighting,  and  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  of  it  in  a 
hurry.  There  's  always  so  much  bluster  and  smoke  and 
bellowing  about  it.  It 's  all  well  enough  to  be  backed 
up  by  a  battery  or  to  know  you  can  have  one  when  you 
want  it,  but  it 's  a  mighty  noisy  helper." 

"  Nothing  like  it  for  shrapnel  or  for  grape  or  canister, 
just  when  the  enemy  are  bearing  down  on  you  a  little 
too  hard,  eh  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  artillery's  a  mighty  good  thing  then,  but 
too  noisy  for  steady  work  at  short  range.  Great  Scott, 
how  my  head  aches  !  Fit  to  burst,  and  my  ears  fairly 
ring  with  the  infernal  noise  they  made.  Well,  they  're 
gone  and  we  can  straighten  up  once  more.  But  we  've 
got  to  keep  our  eyes  open.  I  wonder  what 's  going  on 
in  the  rear  ?" 

Looking  in  that  direction  I  saw,  in  the  fading  light, 
the  shadowy  forms  of  orderlies  flitting  to  and  fro  among 
the  trees. 

"  What 's  up  ?"  asked  Fred. 

"  Looks  as  if  we  were  getting  ready  to  move  again," 
I  replied.  "  Do  you  think  we  are  ?" 

"  Hard  to  tell.  There  's  Jake,  just  coming  out  of 
the  woods  and  crawling  toward  his  pit.  Hail  him  and 
see  what  he  has  to  say  about  it." 

"Ho,  Jake!"  I  cried.  "What's  the  matter  back 
there  ?" 

"  Matter  enough,"  responded  Jake.  "  Forrest's  cav- 
alry has  crossed  the  river  below  us,  and  they  're  to 
swing  around  on  our  flank  so  as  to  strike  our  left  and 
rear." 

"  Where  's  Hood  ?" 


216  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  Crossed  the  river  farther  up,  and  is  coming  down 
the  other  way." 

"  What  have  we  got  to  do  ?" 

'•  Stay  where  we  are.-  The  entire  force,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  Twelfth  and  Sixteenth  Kentucky,  are 
going  to  fall  back  to  Franklin." 

"  What  are  we  to  be  left  behind  for  ?" 

"  We  Ve  got  to  do  skirmish  duty  until  midnight,  then 
we  '11  git  too.  By  that  time,  though,  Hood  '11  be  be- 
tween us  and  Franklin,  and  we  '11  not  only  have  to  frog 
it  ten  or  fifteen  miles,  but  we  '11  also  have  to  do  some 
mighty  sharp  work,  I  'm  thinking,  to  git  by  the  rebs 
without  being  seen.  They  11  gobble  us,  sure 's  you 
live,  if  they  only  catch  sight  of  us.  It 's  always  the 
way.  Whenever  there's  any  dirty  work  to  do  the 
Twelfth  and  Sixteenth  have  got  to  do  it." 

"  Our  forces  start  soon,  then  ?" 

"  Start  ?  They  Ve  already  started.  There  's  going  to 
be  some  awful  close  work  in  the  next  forty-eight 
hours,"  muttered  Jake  to  himself,  as  he  turned  and 
crawled  back  his  post. 

"  Gad,  Dan  !"  said  Fred.  "  This  is  a  bad  business — 
a  mighty  bad  business,  whether  it  's  orders  or  not ! 
This  gives  us  no  chance  at  all,  and  leaves  us  completely 
at  the  mercy  of  the  enemy.  We  're  only  a  handful  of 
men,  at  best,  and  we  've  been  left  here  to  be  takei? 
prisoners,  to  be  slaughtered  or  anything  else,  so  long 
as  an  appearance  is  kept  up  that  our  whole  force  has 
not  stepped  out." 

"  It  seems  as  if  it  wouldn't  have  been  any  more  than 
fair  to  have  put  some  one  else  down  for  this  work," 
said  I.  "  Hardly  the  right  thing  to  make  two  regiments 
do  this  kind  of  work  all  the  time." 

"  That 's  just  what  's  the  matter,"  assented  Fred,  his 
face  suddenly  assuming  a  thoughtful  expression.  Then 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  217 

rousing  himself,  he  asked,  in  a  voice  which  had  not  a 
trace  of  discouragement  in  it : 

"  What  have  you  got  to  eat  ?" 

"  Only  half  a  dozen  hard  tack.     Why  ?" 

"  Nothing  much.  Only  that  's  six  more  than  I  Ve 
got,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  it  's  about  time  that  we 
were  eating  something.  I  'm  as  hungry  as  a  wolf,  and 
have  only  a  small  piece  of  bacon." 

"  No  pork  ?" 

"  No.  Pork  's  been  a  mighty  scarce  article  lately. 
What  with  Forrest's  Cavalry  flying  here  and  there  all 
the  time,  being  always  on  the  move  ourselves,  and  the 
bad  roads,  it  's  a  wonder  to  me  that  we  get  anything 
to  eat." 

"  Trot  out  your  bacon  then,  if  that 's  all  you  Ve  got, 
and  we  '11  divide  !  Here  's  three  hard  tack  for  you  !" 

"  Hark  !"  interrupted  Fred,  suddenly,  standing  up 
and  assuming  a  listening  attitude.  "  What  's  that  ? 
Skirmishers  to  the  rear  ?  Hello  there,  sergeant,  what 's 
the  matter  now  ?" 

"  Orders  to  leave  here,"  replied  the  sergeant,  hur- 
riedly. "  Got  to  take  position  farther  down  the  river — 
just  beyond  the  bend.  Better  get  over  there  lively  ; 
the  rest  of  the  boys  have  started." 

"  Here  's  some  of  our  boys  now,"  said  Fred.  "  Let 's 
go  along  with  them.  Here  is  Jake  and  Kimball  and 
Taylor—" 

"  Well,  Fred,  they  're  bound  to  do  us  up  this  time, 
sure,"  said  Jake,  not  giving  Fred  an  opportunity  to  fin- 
ish his  sentence.  "  This  is  what  I  call  rough — to  make 
a  fellow  leave  trenches  like  these  for  a  place  where,  I  '11 
bet,  there  ain't  no  cover  at  all." 

"  Rough  or  not,  we  've  got  to  make  the  best  of  it," 
replied  Fred.  "  It 's  all  in  '  three  years  or  during  the 
war.'  What 's  troubling  me  now,  more  than  anything 


218 


THE     GUN-BEARER. 


else,  is  something  to  eat."    Then  to  me  :  "  We  11  have 
/to  postpone  our  supper  until  later,   Dan  ;    guess  we 
might  as  well  divide  those  hard  tack  now,  and  the  bacon 
when  we  stop.     Come  !" 

Leaving  our  narrow  quarters,  we  followed  on  after 
our  comrades.  Almost  perfect  silence  was  observed 
during  the  half  hour  we  were  changing  positions.  Only 
the  muffled  tramp  of  feet,  the  cracking  of  twigs  or  the 
rustling  of  leaves  gave  any  indication  of  our  movement. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

I  had  no  desire  to  talk,  for  my  mind  was  filled  with 
the  gloomiest  forebodings.  We  were  only  a  handful 
of  men,  and  I  had  no  doubt  that  Hood's  army  was  at 
that  moment  cutting  off  all  hope  of  retreat  to  Franklin. 

A  little  beyond  the  bend  we  found  men,  belonging  to 
other  companies,  stationed  at  regular  intervals  along 
the  bank,  and,  just  as  Jake  predicted,  where  there  was 
little  or  no  protection  from  the  enemy's  fire,  in  case 
they  should  open  on  us. 

Fred  and  I  were  assigned  to  one  post  and,  after  the 
sergeant  with  the  rest  of  the  company  had  left  us,  we 
endeavored  in  the  darkness  to  take  in  our  new  position. 
As  near  as  we  could  make  out,  we  were  near  a  ford. 
Directly  in  front  of  us  were  two  small  trees  standing 
close  together.  A  little  beyond  this,  we  heard  the 
river  with  its  whirling  and  plashing  current  of  black 
waters.  The  night  air  was  heavy  with  moisture,  which 
hung  over  us  like  a  pall,  and  made  the  darkness, 
shrouding  both  sides  of  the  river,  more  intense,  more 
impenetrable. 

We  immediately  set  to  work  with  our  bayonets  and 
hands,  and  soon  had  piled  the  earth  high  enough,  be- 
tween the  two  trees,  to  make  a  comparatively  safe 
shelter  for  ourselves.  The  enemy's  picket,  which  lined 

[219] 


220  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  at  this  point,  seemed  de- 
termined to  make  our  position  as  uncomfortable  as 
possible,  and  opened  fire  on  us  occasionally.  This  made 
it  necessary  for  us  to  lie  flat  on  the  earth  most  of  the 
time. 

During  the  intervals  of  firing,  with  the  exception  of 
some  far-away  echo  or  the  sound  of  the  stream  as  it 
flowed  lapsing  and  sucking  by  the  banks  or  rippled 
over  the  shallows  at  the  ford,  the  silence,  after  the  roar 
of  artillery  through  the  day,  was  startling.  After  lying 
in  this  position  some  moments  I  felt  something  touch  me. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  I  asked  nervously. 

"  Bacon,"  answered  the  reassuring  voice  of  Fred. 
"  It  ain't  much  of  a  supper,  Dan,  but  it 's  all  we  've  got, 
and  we  'd  better  eat  it  now." 

Neither  of  us  had  a  drop  of  water  in  our  canteens, 
and  we  were  both  chilled  to  the  marrow  ;  but  I  cannot 
remember  when  I  ever  enjoyed  a  meal  more  thoroughly 
than  I  did  my  share  of  the  last  six  crackers  and  an 
equal  part  of  Fred's  bacon. 

For  fully  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  solemn  stillness 
reigned.  Then  suddenly,  as  if  in  obedience  to  a  given 
signal,  a  line  of  fire  blazed  out  from  the  woods  on  the 
opposite  bank,  and  the  whistle  and  zip  of  a  shower  of 
bullets  struck  among  the  leaves  around  us  or  flew  harm- 
lessly over  our  heads. 

Word  was  quietly  passed  from  post  to  post  along  the 
line  that  our  safety  depended  on  silence  and  hugging 
the  earth  as  closely  as  possible.  We  made  ourselves  as 
comfortable  as  we  could,  and  listened  to  a  sound,  like 
the  noise  made  by  an  army  crossing  a  pontoon  bridge, 
somewhere  below  us. 

"  Our  line  can't  be  a  very  long  one,"  I  said.  "  The 
enemy  don't  seem  to  have  any  opposition  in  crossing." 

"  Sound  travels  a  good  bit  on  the  water.    Then  our 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  221 

heads  are  close  to  the  earth,  and  we  can  hear  a  noise 
like  that  made  below  a  long  way  off." 

"  This  sort  of  thing  can't  last  long,"  said  I.  "  Hood 
is  close  upon  us,  and  it  seems  to  me  he  's  going  to  force 
a  fight  soon." 

"  That 's  what  he  's  after,  you  may  depend.  Well, 
some  of  our  boys  have  been  aching  for  a  fight  for  a 
long  time.  As  if  one  fight  would  settle  anything  !" 

"  There 's  one  thing  we  've  learned,  and  that  is  to 
appreciate  the  feelings  of  Johnston's  army  when  it  was 
being  pressed  by  Sherman.  It  isn't  the  fight  the  boys 
want  so  much  as  it  is  to  be  doing  something.  Action 
is  better  than  freezing." 

"  I.'d  rather  get  warm  some  other  way.  There  they 
go  again  !" 

Once  more  the  enemy  opened  fire  upon  us  ;  this  time 
a  little  heavier  than  usual.  Almost  simultaneously  a 
voice  on  my  right  cried  out  in  agony  : 

"Oh!    Oh!    Oh!" 

"  God  !"  said  Fred.    "  Who  's  that  ?" 

"  Oh,  help !" 

"  Careful !"  said  Fred,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the 
wounded  man.  "  Don't  let  'em  hear  you  on  the  other 
side.  They  '11  fire  again  if  they  do." 

"  Oh— I— can't—  help— it !  Oh!  Oh!  Help  me! 
Help  !" 

"  I  can't  stand  this,"  I  said  to  Fred,  and  started  to 
relieve  the  sufferer  ;  but  Fred  pulled  me  back,  saying : 

"  Be  careful,  Dan,  you  can't  do  him  any  good,  and  the 
rebs  will  fire  again  as  soon  as  they  hear  him." 

"  I  don't  care  if  they  do.     I  'm — " 

"  H-e— 1-p !"  shrieked  the  poor  unfortunate,  with  all 
the  strength  at  his  command. 

As  this  cry  of  distress  echoed  up  and  down  the  river, 
another  blaze  from  the  enemy's  rifles,  and  another 


222  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

shower  of  bullets  whistled  through  the  air  uncomfort- 
ably near  us.  One  of  these  missiles  struck  the  tree 
nearest  us  and  burst. 

"  My  God  !"  exclaimed  Fred,  who  had  observed  this 
fact.  "  They  're  firing  explosive  bullets  at  us.  There  's 
no  help  for  a  fellow  if  he  ever  gets  hit  with  one  of  those 
things." 

An  instant  of  silence  and  another  agonized  voice  cried 
out : 

"  Come  here,  somebody,  quick  !" 

"  Who  's  that  ?"  I  asked  of  Fred,  thinking  I  knew  the 
voice. 

"  Oh,  hurry,  some  one — quick  !  For  God's  sake,  help 
me,  quick  !  I  can't  do  anything  alone.  Jake  !  Fred  ! 
Dan !" 

"Yes,"  said  Fred,  who  had  located  the  voice,  and  was 
now,  regardless  of  his  caution  to  me,  moving  quickly 
toward  the  spot  whence  it  came.  I  also  started,  but 
in  the  other  direction,  to  aid  the  first  comrade  who 
called.  I  found  him  only  a  short  distance  away.  He 
was  lying  on  his  side,  dead.  I  felt  of  his  face  ;  it  was 
beardless,  and  covered  with  a  cold  sweat.  I  could  not 
tell,  in  the  pitchy  darkness,  who  he  was,  and  I  crawled 
back  to  my  post,  where  I  was  soon  joined  by  my  com- 
panion. 

"  Who  was  it,  Fred  ?"  I  asked. 

"  It  was — was — ah,  how  can  I  say  it !  How  can  I 
believe  that  he  is  dead  !" 

Then,  after  a  pause,  he  continued  : 

"  It  was — Kimball,  poor  fellow.  He  was  shot  in  the 
shoulder,  and,  when  I  got  there,  was  trying  to  prevent 
himself  from  bleeding  to  death.  He  had  pulled  up  the 
cape  of  his  overcoat,  and  was  trying  to  press  it  into  the 
wound.  He  told  me  what  he  had  done,  and  that  his 
entire  shoulder  seemed  to  have  been  shattered  by  an 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  223 

explosive  bullet.  I  took  out  my  big  red  handkerchief 
to  help  him,  but  't  was  no  use  ;  before  I  could  think  of 
what  I  ought  to  do,  he  said :  '  Give  me  some  water,  Fred,' 
and  fell  over  dead." 

"  He  is  the  first  of  our  mess  to  go,"  I  said. 

"  Yes ;  we  've  been  together  a  long  time,  Dan,  and 
to  think  this  is  the  end.  Kimball  was  a  brave  soldier, 
Dan  ;  he  never  shirked  his  duty.  Many  a  time,  when 
he  's  been  as  much  used  up  as  any  of  us,  he  has  helped 
you  and  me  and  others  over  hard  places.  Then,  he  was 
always  ready  to  divide  rations  with  his  comrades.  Poor 
Kimball !  God  help  us  all !  Common  bullets  are  bad 
enough,  but  these  infernal  machines — they  're  only  fit 
to  be  used  by  cowards  and  assassins." 

"  It 's  too  bad  !"  I  said.  "  The  other  one  on  the  right 
is  also  dead." 

"  Did  you  go  to  him  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Who  was  he  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  No  one  I  could  think  of  in  our  com- 
pany. This  has  been  a  bad  night  for  us,  so  far.  I 
wonder  how  much  longer  they  intend  to  keep  us  here  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  what  to  think !  If  you  'd  been 
over  there  with  Kimball  when  he  was  hopelessly  strug- 
gling for  his  life  and  been  made  to  feel  as  I  did,  that 
only  a  few  minutes  were  left  in  which  to  do  anything, 
and  then  to  know  you  were  powerless  and  unable  to 
save  him,  you  would  feel  as  dazed  as  I  do.  I  've  left 
many  a  good  man  behind  me  in  a  charge  and,  in  the 
excitement  of  the  moment,  thought  nothing  of  it ;  at 
least,  it  never  made  the  impression  on  me  this  has. 
There  is  only  one  thought  uppermost  in  my  mind,  and 
that 's  Kimball.  I  wish  we  were  out  of  this.  In  all 
the  time  I  've  been  in  the  service,  I  never  felt  as  I  do 
now." 


224  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  Oh,  pshaw  !"  I  said,  trying  to  make  light  of  Fred's 
melancholy  mood.  "  There  's  no  use  getting  blue  over 
what  can't  be  helped.  .You  're  only  cold  and  nervous." 

"I  feel  as  if  something  were  going  to  happen."  Then, 
as  if  he  had  suddenly  realized  he  was  getting  to  be  a 
trifle  childish,  he  added  :  "  This  day's  work  has  been 
too  much  for  me.  Look  out,  there  they  go  again  !" 

Once  more  the  rifles  of  the  enemy  flash  out  in  the 
darkness  on  the  opposite  bank,  and  this  time  a  shower 
of  bullets  whistled  harmlessly  over  our  heads.  After 
an  instant  of  silence,  the  clear  ringing  voice  of 
Hartees,  echoed  up  and  down  the  river  : 
^"At-ten-tion!" 

Absolute  silence  was  preserved  along  the  line,  on 
both  sides.  It  seemed  as  if  the  river  had  ceased  to 
flow  ;  that  the  leaves  had  stopped  their  rustling  ;  that 
even  the  winds,  with  bated  breath,  had  paused  for  what 
might  follow.  Again  the  commanding  voice  of  our 
captain  pierced  the  chilly  night  air  : 

"Men,"  he  said,  "if  another  shot  is  fired  from  the 
other  side  to-night,  open  every  gun  on  them." 

"  That  ought  to  fix  them,"  said  Fred,  in  a  low  tone. 

Fix  them  it  did,  for  they  had  not  forgotten  the  shell- 
ing of  the  afternoon,  and  must  have  been  in  doubt 
whether  our  artillery  was  still  before  them  or  not. 
However  that  may  have  been,  the  picket  on  the  other 
side  did  no  more  shooting  that  night. 

An  hour  later  I  took  Fred's  canteen  and  my  own  and 
crept  out  from  behind  our  shelter,  toward  the  river 
bank,  where  I  dropped  silently  down.  There,  on  hands 
and  knees,  through  mud  and  ooze,  to  the  water's  edge, 
I  felt  my  way,  filled  both  canteens,  and  returned  to  my 
post. 

Once  I  heard  the  breaking  of  a  twig,  not  far  from 
me  ;  then  came  a  hurried  rustle  of  leaves,  quickly  fol- 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  225 

lowed  by  a  furtive  intermittent  noise,  as  of  an  animal 
moving  through  the  woods.  "  It  is  the  wind,"  thought  I, 
"  or,  perchance,  some  of  my  comrades  who,  like  myself, 
have  been  to  the  river  for  water." 
"  Whatever  it  was  that  occasioned  the  noise,  nothing 
further  occurred  until  midnight,  when  I  heard  a  slight 
movement  in  our  rear,  as  if  some  one'  was  cautiously 
approaching.  I  listened  intently,  and  fixed  my  eyes  in 
the  direction  from  which  the  noise  came.  The  dark- 
ness was  impenetrable.  I  could  discern  nothing. 

Suddenly  a  sound,  as  of  a  musket-stock  striking  a 
stone  or  stump,  and  then  : 

"  Who  goes  there  ?"  from  Fred,  in  a  quick,  low  tone. 

"  Co'p'l  o'  the  guard,"  came  a  suppressed  reply. 

"  Oh,  it 's  you,  Dick,  is  it  ?    What 's  up  ?" 

"  Goin'  to  git  out  o'  this  at  once.  Goin'  to  fall  back 
to  Franklin.  Fall  in  on  the  Pike  's  the  orders." 

."  Thank  God  for  that  !  Did  you  know  Kimball  was 
gone  ?" 

"  What  ?     Dead  ?" 

"  Dead." 

"  That 's  bad.     Where  is  he  ?" 

"  Next  post.     Can't  a  few  of  us  bury  him  ?" 

"  No  ;  we  've  got  no  time  to  do  that.  It 's  mighty 
hard  to  leave  him  to  be  stripped  by  the  rebs,  but  there  's 
no  help  for  it  now.  Did  he  have  any  valuables  with 
him — a  watch  or  anything  ?" 

"  I  know  he  had  a  watch,  but  I  didn't  have  the  heart 
to  look  for  it  or  for  anything  else  ?" 

"  His  friends  would  like  'em,  mebbe.  Where  does  he 
lay  ?" 

"  About  a  dozen  rods,  in  a  straight  line,  below  us." 

"  I  '11  take  a  look.  Hurry  back  to  the  road.  We  've 
got  no  time  to  lose.  Rebs  are  already  between  us  and 
Franklin.  Ought  to  have  been  out  of  this  an  hour  ago." 


226  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

As  the  corporal  hurried  away  we  started  for  the  road 
from  which  we  had  been  separated  by  a  narrow  belt  of 
woods.  Here  we  groped  and  stumbled  and  fell,  being 
compelled  at  times  to  almost  feel  our  way,  the  darkness 
was  so  intense.  Once  Fred  took  hold  of  my  arm  and  said  : 

"  Stop  a  bit.     Didn't  somebody  call  me  ?" 

"  No,"  I  replied. 

"  Thought  I  heard  my  name." 

'•  Imagination,"  I  said. 

"  Perhaps  so,  but  somehow  the  sound  of  Kimball's 
voice  keeps  ringing  in  my  ears.  I  fancied  I  heard 
some  one  calling  for  help." 

"  Come,"  I  said,  "  let 's  get  out  of  this.  We  Ve  a  long 
tramp  ahead  of  us,  and  but  little  time  to  do  it  in." 

After  pausing  a  moment  or  two  longer,  and  satisfy- 
ing himself  that  the  sounds  he  heard  were  only  the  prod- 
uct of  his  imaginings,  Fred  let  go  of  my  arm,  saying, 
as  he  did  so  : 

"  Well,  we  can  do  no  good  here."  Then,  with  a  sigh  : 
"  I  hate  to  leave  a  man  like  Kimball  was  lying  there 
like  a  dog.  We  may  as  well  go,  though." 

Again  we  groped  our  way  through  the  woods,  Fred 
occupied  with  his  thoughts,  I  with  mine,  and  neither  of 
us  speaking.  Just  before  reaching  the  road  I  kicked 
along  a  small  object  which  aroused  my  curiosity. 

Stooping  down,  I  picked  up  what  proved  to  be  a  sol- 
dier's cap.  It  was  just  what  I  wanted,  for  mine  was 
worn  and  old  and  the  visor  was  twisted  out  of  shape. 
The  cap  I  had  just  found  was  apparently  new.  I  could 
tell  that  by  feeling  the  nap  on  the  cloth.  The  visor 
was  also  straight. 

Passing  my  hand  mechanically  around  the  lining,  my 
fingers  suddenly  slipped  through  a  ragged  hole  in  front 
and  above  the  visor  strap.  The  inside  band  was  also 
wet  and  stuck  to  my  fingers. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  227 

With  a  thrill  of  horror  I  dropped  the  cap,  satisfied 
that  the  owner  had  been  shot  through  the  head,  and  if 
it  were  now  day  instead  of  night  I  should  see  him  lying 
dead  within  a  few  feet  of  me.  As  a  full  sense  of  the 
picture  filled  me,  I  could  not  help  the  thought,  "  If  a 
soldier  must  yield  his  life  for  his  country,  better  die  a 
swift  death  like  that  than  die  as  Kimball  did." 

A  few  steps  farther  on  I  reached  the  road,  but  was 
surprised  to  hear  none  of  our  men  passing,  nothing  but 
the  far-off  sound  of  footsteps  hurrying  on  their  way  to 
Franklin.  Here  I  also  discovered  that  my  companion 
was  not  with  me.  This  startled  me  into  a  realizing 
sense  of  my  loneliness,  and  I  waited  and  wondered. 
Where  was  Fred  ? 

Had  I  loitered  ?  I  was  not  conscious  of  it.  Had 
Fred  retraced  his  steps  ?  He  surely  would  not  do  that  ? 
He  was  with  me  just  before  I  picked  up  the  cap  ;  since 
that  time  I  had  heard  nothing  of  him  ;  there  could  be 
only  one  reasonable  solution  to  my  perplexity.  Fred 
had  passed  me,  joined  those  who  had  gone  ahead,  and 
if  I  would  overtake  him  I  must  follow  him  quickly. 
This  I  did. 

Once  I  fancied  my  name  was  spoken  by  some  one. 
I  ran  in  the  direction  of  the  voice  and  shouted  :  "  Fred ! 
Fred  !"  but  obtained  no  reply.  There  was  no  one  to 
answer  me.  Not  even  the  sound  of  footsteps  now.  I 
was  alone.  The  deep  silence  which  brooded  over  the 
earth  seemed  ominous  of  evil.  Should  I  go  on  or  wait  ? 

I  could  travel  this  road  alone,  and  perhaps  remain 
undiscovered  as  long  as  the  night  lasted.  But  what 
would  the  daylight  bring  ?  A  night  bird  flapped  his 
wings  above  my  head  and  uttered  a  cry  of  warning. 
Fearful  of  further  delay,  I  pressed  forward. 

A  mile  was  passed  without  a  sound  other  than  my 
own  footsteps.  What  wonder  was  it  that  a  deep-toned 


228  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

voice,  speaking  out  in  the  darkness,  almost  at  my  side, 
caused  my  heart  to  bound  and  set  my  pulses  throbbing  ? 

"  Say  thar  !"  said  the  voice.     "  What 's  yer  hurry  ?" 

I  stopped  instantly. 

"  Hello  !  Have  yer  seen  any  'f  ther  Sixteenth  Ken- 
tucky ?" 

"  No,"  I  replied,  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice,  though 
with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  I  had  not  met  an  enemy. 
"Belong  to  the  Twelfth  myself." 

"  Glad  ter  know  it,  dogged  'f  I  ain't.  Heerd  yer 
comin'  'nd  thought  p'rhaps  't  was  one  'f  our  crowd,  so  I 
waited  fer  yer.  Reckon  't  ain't  no  use  huntin'  fer  any 
more  'f  ther  stragglers,  such  a  night  's  this." 

"  You  're  right,"  I  responded,  glad  to  know  I  had  met 
one  of  my  own  brigade.  "  I  left  my  partner  back  there 
by  the  river  an  hour  ago,  and  have  been  waiting  and 
hunting  for  him  ever  since,  thinking  he  would  turn  up." 

"  P'rhaps  he  '11  turn  up  after  awhile  ;  but  I  'm  thinkin' 
yer  '11  see  ther  rebs  first.  They  're  thicker  'n  bees  in 
swarmin'  time  'tween  us  'nd  Franklin,  'nd  'f  we  don't 
keep  tergether  'nd  hurry  along  right  sharp  we  11  git 
snapped  up,  fer  sure." 

"  Come  on,  then.     I  'm  with  you." 

"  Thar  's  whar  yer  right.  Better  a  blamed  sight  look 
out  fer  yerself ;  yer  partner  '11  turn  up  all  right  at 
Franklin." 

"  If  we  ever  get  there,"  I  interrupted. 

"  Oh,  we  '11  git  thar,  'f  we  only  stick  ter  it  long  enough. 
Say,  pard,  what 's  yer  name  ?" 

I  told  him. 

"  And  what 's  yours  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Nicholas  Searle.  Ther  boys  call  me  Nick  fer  short. 
I  say,  Dan,  we  'd  better  double-quick  it  fer  a  while  'nd 
see  'f  we  can't  catch  up  with  ther  rest  'f  ther  boys.  It 's 
gittin'  a  little  skeery  'round  these  parts,  'nd  we  '11  stand 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  229 

a  heap  better  show  er  gittin'  through  'f  we  're  all  ter- 
gether." 

"  Double-quick  it  is,  then,"  I  responded. 

After  running  and  walking  for  half  an  hour  or  more, 
I  saw,  a  short  distance  in  front  of  us,  a  small  point  of 
light — now  glowing,  now  disappearing,  as  a  firefly  light. 
I  knew  it  could  not  be  produced  by  an  insect  at  this 
season  of  the  year  ;  and,  becoming  puzzled  to  explain 
it  to  my  own  satisfaction,  I  took  hold  of  Nick's  arm  and 
stopped  him. 

"  What 's  ther  matter  ?"  asked  Nick. 

"  A  light,"  I  said.     "  See  it  ?" 

"  What  ?    Where  ?    I  don't  see  no  light." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  and  you  '11  see  it ;  it 's  only  a  small 
speck  of  light,  but  it 's  over  there  on  the  left." 

At  brief  intervals  the  light  appeared  and  disap- 
peared. 

"  See  it  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Nick,  after  a  moment  of  hesitation, 
"it 's  some  Johnnie  smokin' ;  'nd  yer  kin  bet  yer  shoes 
they  "re  mighty  thick  'round  here  ter  be  so  car'less  's 
that.  We  might  's  well  jog  along ;  they  Ve  heerd  us 
'fore  this.  Come  on.  I  '11  do  ther  talkin'." 

In  a  few  moments  we  were  hailed  with  : 

"  Halt !     Whar  yer  gwine  ?" 

"  Lookin'  fer  ther  boys,"  replied  Nick. 

"  What  regiment  d'  yer  b'long  ter  ?" 

"  Georgy  Tigers." 

"  Which-a-way  'd  yer  come  ?" 

"  'Long  ther  Pike  Road,  from  Columby." 

"  Seen  any  'f  ther  Yanks  ?" 

"  No.     Why  ?" 

"Thought  mebbe  yer  mought  've  seen  some  'f  'em." 

"  Who  be  you  uns  ?"  asked  Nick. 

"Twenty-ninth  North  Car 'liny." 


230  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  Whar  's  Hood  all  ?" 

"  Spring  Hill,  'nd  a  right  good  jog  ahead  it  is  too." 

"Wall,,  here  's  arter  'em,"  and  Nick  grasped  me 
nervously  by  the  arm,  saying  as  he  did  so,  "  come  on 
boys  !" 

"  Hold  on  thar  !     How  many  d'  yer  count  ?" 

"  Lively  Dan,  lively  my  boy,"  whispered  Nick,  in- 
creasing his  speed, <l  we  Ve  got  to  leg  it  ter  git  out  er 
this,  't  won't  do  ter  let  'em  scratch  a  match  on  us. 
Thought  they  was  lettin'  us  off  easy-like." 

"  Halt  thar  !     D'  yer  hear  ?"  demanded  the  voice. 

"Quick,  Dan,"  said  Nick,  "let  's  leave  ther  road. 
We  '11  do  better  on  ther  side  'nd  won't  make  so  much 
noise." 

We  scarce  had  time  to  reach  the  roadside  when  a 
shot  was  fired  after  us.  Another  and  yet  another  rifle 
flared  out  in  the  darkness,  but  the  bullets,  while  we 
heard  them  whistle  by,  did  us  no  harm.  Our  inquisitors 
were  evidently  too  tired  to  pursue  us,  for  they  con- 
tented themselves  with  these  three  shots  and  we  heard 
nothing  more  of  them. 

We  ran  at  full  speed  some  distance  and  then  slack- 
ened our  pace  to  a  rapid  walk.  It  seemed  to  me  I 
never  was  so  tired,  that  the  roads  were  never  in  a 
worse  condition,  and  that  we  would  never  overtake  our 
men. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

Several  times  we  heard  firing  ahead,  but  this  only 
stimulated  us  to  greater  exertion.  We  knew  the  im- 
portance of  making  the  most  of  our  time  and  reaching 
the  main  body  of  our  detail  while  it  was  yet  dark.  At 
last  we  found  them  walking,  rapidly  and  silently,  on  the 
right  of  the  turpike.  Nick  was  first  to  discover  the 
progress  we  had  made,  and  encouraged  us  with  : 

"  Here  they  are,  Dan.  Take  it  easy,  now,  my  boy 
We  Ve  got  along  so  fur  all  right,  thank  God  !  Hard 
work,  aint  it  ?" 

"  You  're  right,"  I  replied,  when  I  had  recovered  from 
the  last  run  sufficiently  to  speak.  "  I  couldn't  have 
gone  any  farther  at  that  pace." 

"  Wall,  I  'd  about  gi'n  out  myself  ;  but  it 's  a  heap 
better  "n  'twas  back  thar  at  Columby,  'nd  we  're  'n  a  heap 
better  condition  ter  whoop  'em  up  f er  ther  Johnnies,  'f 
they  trouble  us.  Say,  comrade,"  speaking  to  one  of  the 
party  we  had  just  overtaken,  "  what  was  that  firm' 
fer,  a  while  ago  ?" 

"  Skirmish,  J  reckon.  Rebs  is  thick  all  around  us, 
and  they  're  thick  on  the  other  side  of  the  Pike." 

"  Did  yer  have  a  hand  in  ther  skirmish  ?" 

"  No,  '  twas  way  ahead  o'  us." 

"  Where  are  we  ?" 

"  Don'  know  !  Some  on  em  says  we  ain't  far  from 

[231] 


232  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

Spring  Hill  ;  though  what  they  knows  about  it,  I  'm 
blamed  'f  I  know  !  Some  on  'em  says,  too,  that  ther 
rebs  are  camped  ahead  'f  us  on  ther  other  side  'f  ther 
Pike  'nd  that  we  '11  see  their  fires  pretty  quick  !" 

"Shouldn't  be  s'prised 'f  we  did!"  responded  Nick. 
"  'Nd  'f  we  don't  see  more  'n  fires  we  '11  be  lucky  !  It 's 
goin'  ter  be  a  close  rub  !  Mighty  close  !  That 's  what 's 
ther  matter  !" 

Here  we  halted,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  I  could  re- 
sist the  impulse  to  unroll  my  blanket  and  lie  down  to 
sleep.  As  it  was  I  sat  down,  stretched  my  weary  limbs 
and  dozed  until  shaken  into  wakefulness  by  Nick,  who 
informed  me  word  had  been  passed  along  the  line  that, 
when  started  again,  we  must  move  together  quickly 
and  noiselessly.  Every  man  was  to  be  alert  and  ready 
for  an  attack  at  any  moment. 

There  had  been  some  speculation  as  to  our  where- 
abouts and  what  our  chances  were  of  getting  by  the 
enemy  without  being  seen  and  reaching  Franklin  in 
safety.  Whatever  the  differences  may  have  been  as  to 
minor  details,  all  were  agreed  on  one  point,  and  that 
was,  we  were  about  half  way  between  Columbia  and 
Franklin,  and  if  our  presence  and  strength  were  dis- 
covered by  the  enemy  we  would  be  "  gobbled."  With 
this  comforting  assurance  we  resume  our  march. 

Ears  are  strained  to  catch  the  slightest  sound  of  the 
enemy.  Eyes  ache  as  we  attempt,  in  vain,  to  pierce 
the  pitchy  darkness  which  shuts  us  in.  Hardly  a  word 
is  spoken.  Matches  are  not  lighted  by  smokers.  Each 
man  feels  that  upon  him  rests  the  responsibility  for  the 
safety  of  every  other  man. 

We  had  not  been  on  the  road  more  than  half  an  hour 
when  it  seemed  to  me  I  heard  a  sound  behind  us  as  if 
we  were  being  pursued.  Once  I  stopped  an  instant  and 
listened,  but  heard  nothing. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  233 

"  What  is  it,  Dan  ?"  asked  Nick,  noting  the  pause. 

"  Thought  I  heard  the  rebs  after  us,  double  quick." 

"  'T  wouldn't  be  no  great  s'prise  'f  we  did  have  a  little 
scrimmage  'fore  we  git  out  er  this.  Rebs  is  all  around 
us,  'nd — "  hesitatingly — "  there  they  are,  sure  's  you  're 
born." 

"  Where  ?"  I  asked,  quickly,  expecting  to  hear  a  volley 
of  musketry  before  a  reply  could  be  made. 

"  Jest  over  the  hill  yonder.  See  that  light  loomin'  up 
thar,  ter  the  left  ?" 

I  looked  and  plainly  saw  the  hill  outlined  against  the 
red  glow  beyond. 

"  No  doubt  er  them  bein'  rebs,"  said  Nick ;  "  'nd  I 
reckon  they  're  not  more  'n  half  a  mile  away." 

"  Good  thing  for  us  they  haven't  tried  to  control  the 
road." 

"  Reckon  they  don't  b'lieve  there  's  any  need  er 
lookin'  arter  ther  road.  Ther  rebs  's  tired  's  we  be,  'nd 
they  "re  not  goin'  ter  bother  their  heads  'bout  a  few 
stragglers  ;  'nd  that 's  all  there  is  of  us,  'nd  they  know 
it.  Hark  !  What  was  that  ?  Halt  !" 

Nick  turned  quickly,  bringing  his  gun  to  a  ready. 
There  was  no  mistake  this  time.  We  not  only  heard  the 
tramp  of  feet ;  we  also  heard  the  rattle  and  click  of 
accouterments. 

"  Halt,  thar,  I  say  !"  repeated  Nick,  in  a  louder  tone, 
as  the  party  showed  no  disposition  to  stop.  "  T  yer  don't 
stand  whar  yer  be,  we  '11  blow  yer  ter  pieces.  Who  be 
yer  ?" 

"  Stragglers  from  th'  Sixteenth  and  Twelfth  Ken- 
tucky, from  Columbia." 

"  Come  on,  then.  Dogged  'f  yer  ain't  hed  ter  leg  it. 
Seen  any  'f  ther  rebs  ?" 

"  Only  a  few  pieces  of  artillery  that  passed  a  couple 
of  miles  back," 


234  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  Which  way  'd  they  go  ?" 

"Crossed  the  road  and  moved  off  to  the  left." 

"  Didn't  see  nobody  else,  no  pickets,  nor  nothin'  ?" 

"  No." 

"  That  's  all  right  then,  they  won't  bother  us." 

The  newcomers  proved  to  be  three  men  from  the 
Sixteenth  Kentucky  and  four  men  from  the  Twelfth 
Kentucky,  the  latter  belonging  to  Company  C.  They  had 
all  been  left  behind  in  the  hurry  of  departure,  but  no 
one  questioned  them  particularly,  as  a  few  moments 
later  we  came  in  full  view  of  the  camp  fires  of  large 
bodies  of  troops. 

It  was  suggested  that  Schofield  was  in  bivouac  there, 
but  there  was  no  one  who  cared  to  investigate.  The 
camp  was  almost  parallel  with  the  turnpike  for  a  long 
distance,  and  we  hurried  by  like  phantoms. 

Once  we  saw  a  body  of  horsemen  passing  between 
us  and  the  light,  but  they  were  going  in  an  opposite 
direction  and  quickly  disappeared  from  view.  Before 
losing  sight  of  the  bivouac  of  our  foes,  we  dimly  saw 
between  it  and  us  a  force  of  some  sort.  Nearer  to  the 
road,  we  pass  a  few  of  our  men  silently  standing  beside 
a  barricade  of  rails,  evidently  watching  for  some  move- 
ment in  opposition  to  our  own. 

The  darkness  deepens  and  again  becomes  blackness  ; 
only  the  red  gleams  from  a  few  of  the  distant  fires 
break  it  here  and  there  in  swaying  rifts.  Not  a  word 
is  spoken,  while  we  are  passing  this  point,  though  many 
an  anxious  eye  is  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  rebel 
camp. 

All  doubts  as  to  whether  we  would  get  beyond  reach 
of  the  enemy  without  being  discovered  were  settled  a 
few  moments  later  by  sharp  firing  in  our  rear.  We 
were  soon  overtaken  by  the  party  we  had  seen  stand- 
ing at  the  barricade  of  rails.  From  this  squad  we  learn 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  235 

that  they  had  been  fired  upon  by  the  enemy's  skirmish 
line. 

"  They  '11  chase  us  up,  see  '£  they  don't,"  said  Nick, 
upon  learning  the  fire  had  been  returned. 

"  So  long  as  they  don't  know  how  many  there  are  of 
us,  we  are  just  as  good  as  a  whole  division  would  be," 
said  I. 

"  Yer  right,  Dan  ;  and  it  will  make  ther  Johnnies  er 
little  careful,  arter  we  once  get  a  crack  at  'em.  'F  we 
only  had  er  few  big  guns,  'twould  be  all  ther  better." 

A  few  minutes  later  and  another  volley  was  heard 
from  the  same  direction. 

"  They  won't  get  an  answer  this  time  ;  ther  coon  ain't 
thar,"  said  Nick. 

"  No,  but  as  you  said,  just  now,  they'll  follow  us  up." 

Weary  and  worn  we  pressed  onward,  now  with  sway- 
ing step  and  half  closed  eyes,  now  breaking  into  a 
double  quick,  now  slowing  down  to  a  rapid  walk, 
every  step  bringing  us  nearer  to  Franklin,  every  man 
carrying  his  gun  ready  for  instant  action.  A  short 
interval  passed,  and  then,  within  easy  range,  from  our 
left  came  a  light  volley  of  musketry,  which  did  us  no 
harm. 

Halting  for  a  moment,  we  vigorously  returned  the 
fire  and  then  resumed  our  march.  It  soon  became 
apparent,  from  the  method  of  attack,  that  the  enemy 
were  not  present  in  large  numbers.  Possibly  it  was 
only  a  skirmish  line  or,  perhaps,  a  small  body  of  cav- 
alry. Whatever  it  was,  the  force  continued  to  harass 
us  at  intervals. 

Just  before  the  day  dawned,  we  saw  the  glowing 
embers  of  a  baggage-wagon  that  had  been  destroyed. 
We  gave  this  spot  a  wide  berth.  A  little  later  and  our 
eyes  penetrated  farther  into  the  darkness  with  which 
we  had  been  surrounded.  A  faint  glow  appeared  in 


236  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

the  east.  Daylight  came.  The  darkness  broke  and 
dissolved.  The  mists  rose  from  the  earth  like  ragged 
curtains. 

In  the  morning  light  I  saw  the  anxious,  careworn  faces 
of  the  men  around  me — soldiers  bound  together  by  the 
feeling  of  sympathy  and  comradeship,  the  natural 
accompaniment  of  a  common  danger  and  duty. 

Close  beside  me  was  Nick — tall,  awkward,  gaunt,  with 
a  kindly,  honest  face  and  big  gray  eyes,  which  I  found 
were  curiously  turned  toward  me. 

As  the  sun  rose  we  reached  the  friendly  shelter  of 
woods.  Here  we  hurried  along  at  a  rapid  pace.  Our 
safety  now  depended  on  our  speed.  Tired,  hungry  and 
exhausted  as  we  were,  there  was  no  time  for  halting, 
and,  if  there  had  been,  breakfast  was  impossible,  for 
there  was  nothing  to  eat. 

Fifteen  or  twenty  miles  are  nothing  for  strong,  well- 
fed  soldiers,  breaking  camp  in  the  freshness  of  the  early 
morning,  but  we  were  in  no  condition  for  it.  We  had 
not  slept  for  two  nights,  and  our  haversacks  were 
empty. 

Many  a  time  I  was  tempted  to  drop  out  of  line  and 
rest.  What  odds  if  I  were  taken  prisoner  and  carried 
to  Andersonville  ?  I  might  as  well  die  there  as  any- 
where. 

Hour  after  hour  slipped  away.  Mile  after  mile  we 
covered  in  this  toilsome  march,  stimulated  only  to  still 
greater  effort  by  occasional  shots  from  the  enemy.  At 
last  the  breastworks  thrown  up  by  Schofield's  force  on 
the  crest  of  the  hill  between  us  and  Franklin  came  into 
view. 

A  half -hour  later  we  passed  through  the  opening  in 
the  works  at  the  turnpike,  where  we  were  welcomed  as 
from  the  dead.  The  greeting  was  a  cordial  one,  but  it 
was  interrupted  by  Nick,  who  quietly  said  ; 


THE     GUN-BEARER. 


237 


"  Dan,  thar  's  our  cook  in  the  rear  'f  that  old  cotton- 
gin  yonder.  Come,  my  boy,  'nd  we  '11  feed." 

A  glance  to  the  right  refreshed  my  eyes  with 
the  sight  of  blazing  wood  and  steaming  kettles. 
Thither  we  went  and,  through  Nick's  cleverness,  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  a  bit  of  bacon,  a  pot  of  hot,  black 
coffee  and  sugar  with  which  to  sweeten  it.  It  was  a 
feast  for  a  hungry  man  ;  such  a  meal  as  I  had  not  en- 
joyed in  a  long  time,  and  it.was  quickly  devoured. 

While  eating,  I  asked  the  cook  if  he  had  seen  any  of 
the  Twelfth  Kentucky,  and  was  informed  that  a  lot  of 
our  men  had  passed  only  a  short  time  before  and  that 
they  were  now  asleep  in  a  little  hollow  only  a  few  steps 
away  in  the  rear  and  on  the  right  of  the  road. 

After  I  had  finished  eating,  I  left  Nick  at  the  fire  and 
started  in  search  of  the  boys,  finding  them  where  the 
cook  had  directed  me.  Captain  Hartees  was  there  and, 
only  a  few  feet  away,  Fred,  Jake  and  Taylor,  all  with 
their  accouterments  on,  sleeping  just  as  they  had  thrown 
themselves,  on  reaching  the  spot  where  they  lay.  I  was 
soon  beside  them  and,  without  my  blanket  under  my 
head  for  a  pillow,  speedily  became  oblivious  to  all  sur- 
roundings. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Franklin,  Tennessee,  the  county  seat  of  Williamson, 
is  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Little  Harpeth.  This 
stream  winds  nearly  around  the  town,  holding  it  as  it 
were  in  the  lap  of  a  crescent. 

Within  the  arms  of  this  crescent,  that  is,  across  from 
one  point  to  the  other,  is  a  ridge,  known  as  Carter's 
Hill,  the  crest  of  which  commands  a  fine  view  of  the 
surrounding  country.  From  this  ridge,  toward  the 
north,  the  ground  gradually  slopes  to  the  river  bank, 
where  the  town  is  located.  Franklin,  therefore,  is 
bounded  by  the  river  on  the  north,  east  and  west  and 
by  the  ridge  on  the  south. 

To  the  south  of  this  ridge  is  also  a  gradual  slope 
which  for  little  less  than  a  mile  on  the  right  and 
directly  in  front  was  clear  of  timber.  This  elevated 
ground  was  occupied  by  our  troops  and,  as  I  stood  by 
the  cook's  fire  and  drank  my  coffee,  a  few  hours  before, 
I  saw  that  the  line  selected  for  defense,  and  along  which 
our  men  were  rapidly  throwing  up  earth  works,  was  a 
curve  extending  from  river  to  river. 

The  center  of  this  intrenchment,  part  of  which  de- 
scribed an  angle,  was  at  the  Columbia  Turnpike,  where 
a  space,  the  whole  width  of  the  road,  was  left  open, 
and  through  which  the  artillery  and  baggage  wagons 
had  passed  on  their  way  to  Nashville. 
[238] 


Tt  E     GUN-BEARER.  239 

After  sleeping  two  or  three  hours,  I  was  suddenly 
awakened.  Expecting  to  find  that  some  of  my  com- 
rades had  disturbed  me,  I  raised  my  head  ;  but  a  glance 
satisfied  me  they  were  still  sleeping,  and  there  was  no 
one  else  near.  Closing  my  eyes,  I  again  tried  to  sleep, 
but  the  siibtle  influence  had  fled,  and,  in  spite  of  my 
tired,  worn-out  condition,  would  not  return.  At  last  I 
arose,  buckled  on  my  accouterments  and,  with  rifle  in 
hand,  walked  toward  the  works. 

Here  I  found  most  of  our  forces  in  position  and 
awaiting  the  appearance  of  the  enemy.  On  the  left  of 
the  road  I  noticed  a  part  of  our  brigade.  A  little  way 
in  the  rear  were  parked  the  ammunition  wagons. 
Crossing  the  road,  a  short  distance  away,  a  retrench- 
ment commanded  the  opening  in  the  works  and  its 
approach.  A  few  rods  south  of  the  cotton  gin,  a  battery 
of  six  field  pieces  had  been  stationed.  West  of  this, 
and  on  the  other  side  of  the  Pike,  were  Opdycke's  men 
in  reserve. 

Just  outside  the  works,  beyond  the  angle,  a  detail  of 
men  were  hurriedly  constructing  a  thorny  abatis  of 
osage  orange.  East  of  this,  Henderson's  men  held  the 
line  to  the  Lewisburg  Pike  ;  then  Casement's  Second 
Brigade  to  the  river. 

Passing  through  the  opening,  I  stood  for  a  few 
moments  gazing  at  the  landscape  before  me.  The 
afternoon  was  surpassingly  lovely,  and  an  Indian-sum- 
mer haze,  which  pervaded  the  warm  atmosphere,  had 
settled  on  the  distant  hills.  Nature  was  peacefully 
sinking  into  her  winter  sleep,  undisturbed  by  any  noise 
save  the  caw  of  a  crow  which  lazily  winged  its  way 
toward  the  leafless  trees  on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 

"  Caw  !     Caw  !    Caw  !" 

Like  a  hungry  ghoul,  impatient  for  a  feast  of  human 
flesh,  this  "  thing  of  evil  "  turned  suddenly  and  sailed 


240  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

in  a  circle  above  us.  There  was  something  almost 
prophetic  in  the  action.  Death  was  at  hand.  In  less 
than  an  hour,  perhaps,  the  air  would  be  thick  with 
hissing  bullets  and  the  earth  in  front  of  me  made  red 
with  blood. 

"  Caw  !    Caw  !    Caw  !" 

Pitiless  and  mocking  came  the  hoarse  response  to  my 
thought.  Was  it  a  warning  ?  The  query  thrilled  me,  and 
I  saw  others  shiver  as  we  watched  this  uneasy  spirit 
winging  higher  and  still  higher.  Was  it  possible  that 
from  his  dizzy  height  he  saw  the  moment  of  battle 
drawing  near? 

"  Caw  !    Caw  !    Caw  !"  came  the  answer. 

"What  a  place  for  a  stand  !"  thought  I.  "If  Hood 
will  only  dare  attack  us  here  !" 

In  front  of  me  was  an  unobstructed  slope  of  open 
fields,  skirted  at  the  base  by  a  belt  of  woods.  Beyond, 
and  nestling  among  the  hills,  a  few  farm  houses  were 
to  be  seen. 

Less  than  half  a  mile  in  front  of  our  center  and 
stretching  across  the  Turnpike  were  stationed  two 
brigades  of  Wagner's  Division. 

Why  they  were  there  I  could  not  understand,  but 
supposed  it  must  be  for  some  good  purpose.  I  noticed 
every  one  in  that  line  was  alert  and  evidently  scanning 
the  woods  at  the  foot  of  the  slope. 

In  the  intrenchments,  too,  men  were  anxiously  watch- 
ing. Now  that  their  work  was  nearly  finished,  they 
gathered  in  groups  to  discuss  the  probability  of  an  at- 
tack. The  solitary  worker,  with  pick  or  shovel  here 
and  there,  stopped  occasionally  between  the  motions  of 
his  occupation  and  viewed  the  scene. 

"  Will  Hood  attack  us  here  or  will  he  march  around 
us  and  once  more  get  in  our  rear  ?"  was  the  question  of 
the  moment. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  241 

We  had  not  long  to  wait  for  an  answer  to  this  query, 
for,  presently,  a  skirmish  line,  emerging  from  the  woods, 
gave  signal  that  the  enemy  were  approaching. 

An  awful  stillness  fell  upon  the  scene  ;  a  quiet  I  had 
experienced,  and  which  every  one  who  has  been  in 
battle  knows  better  than  can  be  described.  The  pulse- 
beat  of  the  line  quickened.  Men  dropped  pick  and 
spade  and  grasped  their  rifles.  Gunners  stood  by  their 
guns,  silently  awaiting  the  solid  ranks  which  everybody 
knew  were  but  a  little  distance  behind  the  skirmishers. 
I  scanned  the  faces  of  the  veterans  near  me,  and  saw 
pictured  there  confidence  and  determination  to  settle 
their  account  with  Hood. 

Suddenly,  from  a  dozen  throats,  there  arose  the  cry  : 

"  There  they  come  !" 

Almost  at  the  same  instant,  from  out  of  the  woods 
near  the  river,  on  our  left,  and  stretching  to  a  consider- 
able distance  beyond  the  Columbia  Turnpike,  I  saw  the 
dark  gray  lines  and  glittering  bayonets  of  the  Con- 
federate army.  In  heavily  massed  column  they  ad- 
vanced, as  gayly,  it  seemed  to  me,  as  if  they  were 
entering  a  parade-ground  instead  of  a  battle-field. 
Marching  toward  us  for  a  short  distance,  they  wheeled 
into  line,  halted,  and  were  at  once  ready  for  the  order, 
"  Forward !" 

Two  detachments  of  artillery  thundered  out  of  the 
woods,  galloped  forward,  unlimbered,  and  established 
themselves  in  positions,  covering  different  roads.  There 
was  no  counter-marching,  no  shifting  of  pieces.  The 
formation  was  made  with  accuracy  and  dispatch. 

Leaving  my  post  of  observation  in  front,  I  turned, 
went  inside  the  works  and  joined  a  group  from  m'y 
brigade,  who  were  also  watching  the  scene. 

When  the  enemy  began  to  move  they  manifested 
even  more  deliberation  than  at  first ;  the  lines,  which 


242  s  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

appeared  to  be  six  or  seven  regiments  deep,  in  the 
center,  assumed  better  shape  and  advanced  with  a  pre- 
cision and  military  bearing-  seldom  seen  on  a  holiday 
parade.  It  was  one  of  the  most  impressive  sights  I 
ever  witnessed  and  occasioned  much  favorable  com- 
ment from  the  veterans  near  me. 

Later,  as  the  enemy  increased  their  speed  to  a  double- 
quick,  one  of  the  group  in  front  of  me  said  : 

"That 's  what  I  call  a  handsome  line  of  battle." 

"  You  're  right,  it  is  !"  said  another.  "  And  they 
mean  business,  too !" 

"  The  best  thing  Wagner  can  do,"  said  a  third,  "  is  to 
git  out  er  that  place,  and  do  it  quick,  too  !  He  'd  better 
git  in  here  out  er  the  way." 

"  He 's  no  good  where  he  is,"  rejoined  the  first  speaker, 
"  and  we  can't  use  a  piece  of  artillery  or  fire  a  musket 
while  they  stand  between  us  and  the  enemy." 

"There's  a  terrible  mistake  somewhere  !"  added  still 
another  speaker. 

It  was  true,  we  could  not  fire  without  injury  to  our 
men.  It  was  also  true  and  painfully  apparent  that 
some  one  had  seriously  blundered  in  placing  that  line. 
Yet  there  it  stood,  two  brigades  of  dazed,  undisciplined 
men,  opposed  to  nearly  forty  thousand  of  the  flower  of 
the  Confederate  Army. 

When  the  enemy  approached  within  a  short  distance, 
these  bridgades  opened  a  rattling  fire  ;  but  the  enemy, 
without  pause  or,  so  far  as  we  could  see,  the  loss  of  a 
man,  hurried  on,  firing  as  they  came,  their  line  extend- 
ing half  a  mile  beyond  either  flank  of  the  panic-stricken 
brigades,  who  now  broke  and  fled — a  confused,  dis- 
organized crowd,  flying  in  terror  and  streaming  directly 
up  the  Turnpike,  toward  our  center,  as  fast  as  their 
legs  could  carry  them. 

**  There 's  a  foot-race  for  yer !"  exclaimed  the  familiar 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  243 

voice  of  Jake  Bence.  "  But  it  's  just  what  we  might 
expect.  Somehow  we  never  get  half  a  chance  at  the 
Johnnies,  but  somebody  up  and  spoils  it  all.  What^ 
business  'd  that  line  out  there,  any  way  ?  The  idea ! 
Hanging  on  till  the  last  minute,  'nd  what  right  had  they 
to  fire,  any  how  ?  Our  line  's  got  to  break  now  to  let 
'em  in.  The  rebs  are  close  onto  'em,  'nd  if  they  don't 
look  out  they  '11  all  come  in  together.  There  's  rebs 
enough  to  eat  us,  if  they  ever  get  a  chance.  Come, 
Dan,  we  'd  better  go  and  wake  up  the  boys." 

Together  we  hurried  to  our  company  in  the  rear  of 
the  cotton-gin,  roused  man  after  man  and  set  these  to 
work  waking  others.  I  ran  to  Captain  Hartees,  who 
was  lying  with  his  head  resting  on  his  overcoat,  and 
attempted  to  shake  him  into  wakefulness.  He  did  not 
respond. 

"Captain!"  I  shouted.  "Wake  up!  The  rebs  are 
coming !" 

By  this  time  the  noise  of  artillery  and  musketry  on 
our  left  gave  evidence  that  the  battle  had  commenced. ; 
and,  as  I  stooped  and  again  took  the  sleeping  officer  by 
the  shoulder,  I  could  hear  the  loud,  ringing  yells  of  the 
enemy  added  to  the  roar  of  the  oncoming  storm. 

"  Captain  !"  I  cried  again.  "  Captain  !  Wake  up  ! 
The  rebs  are  here  !  The  Ve  attacked  us — are  coming 
close  to  the  works  !  Come,  come,  get  up,  or  it  will  be 
too  late  !"  Saying  which,  I  took  hold  of  the  shoulders 
of  the  sleeper  and  raised  him  almost  to  his  feet  before 
he  awoke. 

When  the  captain  finally  became  conscious  that  he 
was  wanted  the  fleetest  runners  of  the  retreating  bri- 
gades had  reached  the  ditch  in  front  of  the  works, 
jumped  into  it,  and  were  coming  up  on  the  other  side 
and  through  our  lines,  which  had  opened  to  receive 
them. 


244  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

From  one  end  of  our  line  of  defense  to  the  other, 
excepting  that  portion  covering  the  turnpike,  a  flame 
of  fire  flashed  a  moment,  fitfully,  and  the  white  smoke 
of  the  burned  powder  hung  like  a  curtain  for  an  instant 
between  us  and  the  enemy,  only  to  drift  away  and 
reveal  the  long  lines  of  graycoats  rapidly  advancing 
and  pouring  into  our  ranks  a  fire  no  less  rapid.  In 
front  I  saw  a  wide  area,  literally  crammed  with  Con- 
federates ;  their  lines,  being  thicker  at  this  point  than 
at  any  other,  were  mixed  with  our  own  men,  all  run- 
ning together. 

The  enemy  fully  appreciated  the  situation,  knew  they 
were  completely  covered  by  our  men,  and  that  so  long 
as  this  condition  of  things  continued,  we  could  not  fire. 
They  also  understood  that  our  line  would  open  to  let 
in  this  hapless  crowd,  and  that  that  break  in  our  center 
would  be  their  opportunity. 

Toward  this  point  they  were  running,  careless,  con- 
fident, their  muskets  at  a  charge,  and  their  faces  beam- 
ing with  satisfaction,  as  if  they  were  anticipating  a 
grand  rout  to  come  and  were  even  then  enjoying  it. 
Nearer  and  nearer,  like  a  drove  of  brown  sheep,  crowd- 
ing by  and  trying  to  run  over  each  other,  in  their 
eagerness  to  be  first  through  our  center,  they  jump 
into  the  ditch  with  our  men,  and  with  them  enter  our 
lines. 

In  their  rear,  a  perfect  sea  of  heads  and  glistening 
steel,  is  moving  forward  with  the  same  desperate 
eagerness,  forcing  those  who  are  in  front  continually 
forward,  whether  they  will  or  not. 

The  charge  of  the  enemy  was  so  impetuous,  and  the 
bewilderment  of  the  men,  who  should  have  held  this 
important  point,  so  great,  that  our  line,  like  a  huge 
gate  opening  inward,  yielded.  The  enemy  saw  it,  and 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  245 

with  a  deafening  yell,  rushed  for  the  gap,  which  imme- 
diately becomes  wider  as  the  One  hundredth  and  a 
part  of  the  One  hundred  and  Fourth  Ohio  left  their 
post  of  duty  and  ran. 

Panic  stricken,  men  and  officers  fled  in  dismay  ;  the 
wildest  confusion  prevailed.  Every  one  seemed  bent  on 
getting  to  the  rear  at  the  earliest  moment.  It  looked 
as  if  no  human  power  could  check  this  disastrous 
stampede.  A  moment  longer  and  our  whole  line,  al- 
ready in  great  peril,  would  have  been  hopelessly  broken 
and  Hood  victorious ;  but  just  as  the  color-bearer  of 
the  One  hundredth  Ohio  came  running  by  us,  Captain 
Hartees  snatched  the  flag  and,  waving  it  aloft  an  in- 
stant, shouted  in  a  tone  heard  above  the  tumult : 

"  Break  for  the  works  !" 

With  a  loud  cheer  company  after  company  of  the 
Twelfth  Kentucky  follow  the  man  whose  bravery  had 
stimulated  them  so  many  times  in  emergencies. 
Colonel  White,  with  voice  and  gesture,  urged  on  the 
Sixteenth  Kentucky  and  the  Eighth  Tennessee,  and 
rallied  the  flying  Ohio  regiments.  All  together  we 
struggle  for  the  abandoned  positions,  while  Wagner's 
men,  with  the  One  Hundred  and  Seventy-fifth  Ohio 
and  Opdyke's  Brigade,  filled  with  the  enthusiasm  of 
their  leader,  also  hurry  to  our  support. 

I  had  never  before,  in  conflict,  been  so  close  to  the 
enemy ;  never  before  had  been  able  to  look  in  men's 
faces  and  note  their  expression.  The  countenances  of 
these  men  were  not  unpleasant  to  look  upon.  There 
was  nothing  to  excite  fear — nothing  brutal — about  them  ; 
rather  an  expression  of  indifference,  as  I  look  back  at 
them  now,  like  men  who  might,  perhaps,  have  been  dis- 
possessed of  their  sensibilities,  and  were  merely  execut- 
ing an  order,  without  the  faintest  thought  or  care  of 


246  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

consequences.  There  were  many  gray,  weather-beaten 
faces,  telling  tales  of  hardship,  of  privation  and  of  suf- 
fering. 

As  the  main  body  of  the  two  lines  met,  I  heard,  from 
the  opposite  side  : 

"We've  got  'em  on  the  run,  boys.  The  works  are 
ours  !  Hold  all  you  get !" 

In  response  came  the  cheering  voice  of  Hartees  : 

"  Forward,  men  !     Drive  'em  back  !    Clean  'em  out  !" 

I  saw  Jake,  at  this  instant,  jump  quickly  forward, 
knock  down  a  Confederate  color-bearer,  wrench  away 
the  flag  he  carried,  throw  it  on  the  ground,  trample  it 
under  foot  and  leave  it  there. 

Immediately  a  desperate  hand-to-hand  fight,  with 
bayonets  and  clubbed  muskets,  ensued,  and  the  stand- 
ards of  both  armies  waved  within  the  line  of  works. 

I  found  myself  defending  blows  that  a  burly  fellow 
was  aiming  at  my  head.  The  features  of  his  dust- 
blackened  and  heated  face  were  quivering  with  fero- 
cious joy.  His  sharp  white  teeth  were  laid  bare  in  a 
wolfish  grin,  and  I  saw  blazing,  in  his  small  gray  eyes, 
a  determination  to  kill  me  or  any  one  else  who  opposed 
him. 

He  had  clubbed  his  gun  and  was  striking  at  me  with 
all  the  strength  he  could  command.  My  rifle  was 
loaded,  but  so  rapidly  did  this  man  handle  his  weapon 
that  I  could  do  nothing  but  ward  off  his  blows. 

Once,  twice,  thrice  he  brought  down  the  butt  of  his 
.musket,  aiming  to  strike  my  head  ;  but  each  time  I 
successfully  fenced  it  off.  Again  and  again,  faster  and 
faster,  he  followed  blow  on  blow.  I  seemed  to  have 
been  left  alone  to  take  care  of  this  man.  My  comrades 
were  by  my  side;  so  near  that  I  could  feel  the  move- 
ments of  their  bodies  against  my  own,  yet  each  man 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  247 

was  defending1,  with  his  life,  the  ground  he  stood 
upon^  as  I  was.  Each  was  held  equally  close  to  his 
perilous  duty  by  the  dogged  determination  of  his 
antagonist.  I  could  help  no  one,  others  could  not  help 
me. 

The  man  confronting  me  was  larger  and  stronger 
than  I,  and  I  felt  that  I  could  not  stand  before  him 
very  long.  My  defense  weakened  rapidly,  but  there  set 
in  now  a  backward  movement  of  the  enemy — the  line 
in  front  of  me  becoming,  if  possible,  more  dense  than 
ever.  As  his  comrades  crowded  against  my  antagonist 
he  wavered,  failed  to  recover  from  the  last  blow  quick 
enough  to  deliver  another.  My  rifle  was  at  his  breast 
in  an  instant.  I  fired.  A  flash,  a  burning  flame  ;  then, 
with  a  look  of  disappoitment  on  his  face,  intensified  as 
he  clutched  his  rifle  with  firmer  grip,  he  fell  at  my 
feet. 

At  this  moment  I  discovered  beside  me  Nick  Searle, 
who,  with  others  of  the  Sixteenth  Kentucky,  in  their 
eagerness  to  meet  the  enemy,  had  separated  from  their 
comrades  in  that  first  rush  for  the  works  and  were  now 
fighting  with  us,  side  by  side. 

Nick  was  striving  desperately  to  free  his  gun  from 
the  control  of  an  assailant  who  had  locked  bayonets 
with  him. 

They  were  well  matched  in  strength,  Nick  having 
advantage  only  by  being  the  more  active  and  fresher 
of  the  two.  There  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  result 
of  this  individual  encounter,  I  thought,  glancing  for 
an  instant  at  the  combatants. 

But  another  of  the  enemy  jumped  to  the  relief  of 
his  comrade  and,  with  the  butt  of  his  musket  raised  in 
the  air,  was  about  to  decide  the  content  against  my 
friend. 


248  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

Quickly  thrusting  forward  my  rifle,  I  warded  off  the 
blow  which  descended  with  crushing  force  on  the 
arm  of  Nick's  foe,  causing  him  to  lose  hold  of  his 
musket  and  leaving  Nick  free  to  act  in  his  own  de- 
fense. 

There  was  no  method  of  action  in  that  encounter ; 
all  we  thought  of  or  cared  for  or  strove  to  accomplish, 
was  to  check,  if  possible,  the  progress  of  the  enemy. 
Men  discharged  their  muskets  in  the  faces  of  other 
men  ;  they  ran  each  other  through  the  body  with 
bayonets  ;  they  clubbed  their  guns  and  brought  them 
down  upon  the  head  of  the  enemy  who  stood  nearest. 
Others  used  the  butts  of  their  guns,  as  one  might  use  a 
battering-ram,  and  struck  their  opponents  in  the 
face. 

Rifle  struck  rifle,  bayonet  locked  with  bayonet,  and 
men  panted  as  they  wildly  struggled  with  each  other 
for  possession  of  this  central  point  in  the  line  of  our 
defense.  Back,  step  by  step,  the  enemy  are  forced 
into  the  ditch.  They  fought  like  madmen  to  hold 
all  they  had  gained  ;  but,  in  spite  of  their  undaunted 
courage,  the  gap  through  which  they  had  expected 
to  pass  "  on  the  run "  closed  and  was  now  well  de- 
fended. 

Among  the  many  prisoners  taken  and  hurried  to  the 
rear,  I  saw  the  Confederate  general,  Gordon,  in  charge 
of  Captain  Hartees. 

It  was  while  leading  his  division  in  this  charge  that 
the  Confederate  general,  Cleburn  was  shot,  not  more 
than  thirty  paces  in  front  of  us.  The  horse  from 
which  he  fell  advanced  to  the  top  of  our  works,  where 
he  was  shot  and  dropped  with  his  feet  hanging  over  the 
headlogs. 

Our  line  was    once  more   unbroken,  and  we  were 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  249 

thinking  that  the  worst  was  over,  when  the  cry  was 
sounded  : 

"  There  they  come  again  !" 

Another  line  of  battle,  stronger  than  the  first,  had 
advanced  at  a  double  quick,  under  cover  of  the  smoke, 
and  were  now  upon  us. 

On  they  come,  shoulder  touching  shoulder,  loading 
and  firing  as  they  advanced.  But  their  assault  was 
met  with  the  firmness  of  a  rock,  and  the  living  wave 
was  dashed  back.  Bruised,  torn  and  bleeding,  they 
staggered  and  fell  in  heaps  under  our  fire,  which 
was  now  crossed  at  a  left  oblique  by  the  fire  from 
a  part  of  our  brigade,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Pike. 

The  discharge  of  small  arms  was  so  incessant  that 
dense  masses  of  smoke  settled  upon  us,  partly  obscuring 
the  field,  and  veiled  the  movements  of  the  assaulting 
lines,  excepting  when  the  sulphurous  vapor  was  lifted 
into  rifts.  Then  we  saw  battle-flags  waving,  lines 
charging  and  men  reeling  and  falling  to  earth.  Great 
swaths  of  human  beings  fell,  as  grass  falls  before  a 
scythe ;  but  the  horrible  gaps  closed  again,  and  tramp- 
ing, slipping,  stumbling  over  the  fallen  bodies  of  their 
dead  and  wounded  comrades,  with  the  powder  flame 
from  our  guns  almost  burning  their  faces,  they 
pressed  toward  the  death  which  they  knew  awaited 
them. 

Again  and  again  the  assault  was  made,  with  similar 
results  ;  and  the  piles  of  dead  and  wounded  attested 
the  heroic  determination  of  the  enemy  to  carry  our 
works  at  any  cost. 

One  Confederate  color-bearer  reached  the  crest  of  our 
works  with  his  flag,  stood  with  it  above  his  head  an 
instant ;  then,  burying  its  pointed  staff  deep  in  the 


250  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

joose  earth,  and  amid  a  storm  of  bullets,  leaving  his 
colors  flying  in  our  faces,  he  jumped  back  among  his 
comrades,  laughing  and  unharmed. 

Hardly  had  he  disappeared  when,  with  a  prolonged 
yell,  the  enemy  attacked  us  with  such  fury  that  it  seemed 
as  if  not  only  Hood's  but  Lee's  army,  also,  was  behind 
those  gallant  fellows,  forcing  them  on.  But  they  need 
no  spur.  Their  standard  was  planted  upon  our  works 
and  beckoned  to  them.  Volley  upon  volley  we  direct 
at  the  staff  of  this  banner,  but  it  continued  to  wave, 
defiantly,  mockingly. 

Captain  Hartees  forces  his  way  toward  this  point, 
shouting  at  the  same  time  : 

"  Cut  down  that  flag  !     Down  with  it !" 

"  Cut  it  down  !  Cut  it  down  !"  echoed  a  score  of 
voices. 

A  heavy  fire  was  centered  upon  it,  tearing  the  banner 
into  shreds.  The  staff  splintered,  bit  by  bit.  Oh,  so 
slowly !  It  bent,  it  broke,  and  the  emblem  of  treason 
at  last  dropped  to  the  earth. 

Faster  the  rear  ranks  loaded,  faster  the  front  ranks 
fired,  until  at  times  our  whole  front  was  one  continuous 
line  of  blazing  musketry.  The  enemy  in  our  immedi- 
ate front  could  endure  it  no  longer,  and  during  a  brief 
lull  cry  out : 

"  For  God's  sake,  stop  firing  !  Let  us  come  in  !  We 
surrender  !" 

"  Stay  where  you  are  !"  thunders  back  a  voice.  "Lie 
down  !  Keep  out  of  the  way  !" 

We  could  not  let  them  in.  Other  lines  were  still 
advancing  upon  us,  and  we  had  no  time  to  spare  in 
taking  prisoners.  Worst  of  all,  our  ammunition  was 
giving  out. 

Captain  Hartees  discovered  this  fact  and  ordered  me 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  251 

to  carry  the  information  to  General  Reilly,  and  tell 
him  we  must  have  more  ammunition,  and  at 
once. 

I  left  my  place  in  line,  went  to  the  rear,  found  the 
general,  and  delivered  the  message. 

"Tell  him,"  said  our  brigade  commander,  "he  shall 
have  it,  and  all  he  wants  at  once,"  upon  which  he 
turned  and  rode  away. 

It  appeared  to  me  as  I  stood  alone  for  a  moment, 
trying  to  take  in  the  scene,  that  the  bullets  were  flying 
thicker  there,  than  at  the  front.  Shot  and  shell  were 
whistling  through  the  air  from  all  directions ;  while 
along  the  whole  line  of  our  defense,  enveloped  in  thick 
smoke,  which  was  dispersed  above  in  a  thin  canopy  of 
bluish  vapor,  I  heard  the  hoarse  shout  of  contending 
armies,  and  the  angry  report  of  musketry  as  it  flashed 
and  tore  along  from  right  and  left  to  center  and  back 
again,  lighting  up  the  smoke  clouds  as  the  light- 
ning's flash  illumines  the  dark  cloud  on  a  summer's 
night. 

Wounded  men  everywhere  ;  some,  leaning  on  their 
guns  for  support,  were  limping  away  ;  some,  crawling 
to  a  place  of  safety';  others,  too  weak  to  move  further, 
were  dying  where  loss  of  blood  had  compelled  them  to 
stop. 

A  wounded,  riderless  horse,  frantic  with  pain,  and 
wild  with  the  furious  tumult,  bounded  over  the 
field,  seeking  to  fly  from  the  peril  which  surrounded 
us. 

I  wonder  now  that  I  ever  had  the  courage  to  return 
to  my  post ;  but  the  idea  that  my  life  was  in  danger 
never  occurred  to  me.  The  scene  I  witnessed  from  the 
rear  impressed  me,  but  it  inspired  no  feeling  of  fear  ; 
I  had  delivered  my  message,  and  satisfied  myself  that 


252  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

things  were  yet  well  with  us,  and  returned  to  my 
duty. 

My  nerves  were  strung  to  the  highest  tension,  and  I 
was  conscious  that  my  excitement  was  intense,  but  the 
controlling  influence,  that  which  moved  me  quickly 
forward,  was  the  fear  that  some  of  my  comrades 
should  miss  me,  and  not  understand  why  I  had  left 
them. 

Once  more  in  line,  I  glanced  backward  toward  the 
ammunition-wagons,  and  there  saw  a  man  take  a  box 
of  ammunition  on  his  shoulder  and  start  toward  us  on 
the  run.  He  had  covered  nearly  half  the  distance  when 
he  fell,  pierced  with  the  enemy's  bullets.  Another 
man  picked  up  the  box,  but  carried  it  only  a  few  yards 
when  he,  too,  fell.  At  that  moment  some  one  from 
brigade  headquarters,  who  had  seen  the  second  man 
fall,  ran  to  the  box,  now  wet  with  blood,  picked  it  up 
and  brought  it  in. 

In  a  moment  the  cover  was  off  and  the  contents  of 
the  box  were  distributed.  Just  then  came  another  lull 
in  the  firing  when  the  enemy,  who  had  given  up  the 
fight,  and  had  since  been  lying  close  under  the  hedge 
and  in  the  ditch,  jumped  up,  shouting  : 

"  Let  us  come  in  now  !     We  surrender  !" 

"  Come  in  !  Come  in  !"  we  shouted,  without  waiting 
for  orders. 

Instantly  our  works  were  swarming  with  the  enemy, 
who  threw  down  both  colors,  arms  and  ammunition, 
and  hurried  to  the  rear. 

Two  or  three  of  our  boys  picked  up  a  few  of  these 
battle  flags,  of  which  there  was  a  large  number,  when 
a  shout  from  some  one  stopped  them. 

"  Leave  these  flags  for  the  sutlers  !"  said  the  voice. 
"  Look  out  for  the  flags  in  front !" 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  253 

Only  a  brief  pause  in  the  roar  of  battle,  just  long 
enough  to  pass  around  the  ammunition  we  had  re- 
ceived and  get  our  prisoners  out  of  the  way,  when 
again  "  the  rebel  yell,"  from  another  of  the  successive 
lines  of  assailants,  gave  warning  of  a  renewal  of  the 
contest. 

Like  men  who  were  breasting  a  storm  of  hail,  pulling 
their  hats  down  over  their  eyes  and  inclining  their  heads 
forward  to  meet  the  leaden  rain,  they  rush  toward  the  red 
tongues  of  death  that,  simultaneously  with  the  order, 
"Fire  !"  leaped  forth  to  scorch  and  wither  dozens  and 
scores  and  hundreds. 

I  wonder  how  men  dare  rush  in  the  face  of  death  so 
calmly,  so  deliberately. 

I  -fixed  my  eyes  on  a  tall,  sinewy  fellow,  with  brown 
beard,  a  slouched  hat,  with  the  rim  turned  down  and  a 
ragged  suit  of  brown  and  gray.  His  hands  held  his 
rifle  firmly  as  he  ran  over  the  dead  and  wounded  bodies 
of  those  who  have  gone  before  him.  He  looked  not  to 
see  where  he  stepped  ;  now  upon  the  chest  of  some 
wounded  comrade  ;  now  upon  the  neck  or  in  the  face 
of  some  one  nearly  dead,  who  writhed  in  agony  at  the 
fresh  torture  inflicted. 

On,  on  he  came.  Bullets  flew  faster  and  yet  faster 
around  him  ;  his  companions  fell  on  either  side  of  him  ; 
he  heeded  them  not.  He  stumbled  at  last,  gathered 
himself,  ran  a  few  paces,  stumbled  again,  staggered, 
dropped  his  gun  and  fell.  Those  behind  were  now 
running  over  his  body  as  he  ran  over  others  but  an 
instant  before. 

Meanwhile,  the  sun  had  set.  It  was  becoming  dark, 
but  I  could  yet  see  across  the  Turnpike,  where  the 
battle  was  raging  still  no  less  fiercely  than  with  us. 
There,  also,  the  enemy  are  trying  to  storm  the  works. 


254  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

But  our  line  stood  firm  as  the  cliffs  of  the  sea.  An 
officer,  leading  the  charge,  rode  to  the  ditch,  leaped  it 
and  mounted  the  works,  where  the  horse  fell,  riddled 
with  bullets,  and  the  rider  tumbled  headlong  to  the 
earth. 

A  howl  of  rage  rose  from  the  infuriated  host  which 
now  sprang  forward  for  revenge.  The  entire  line  was 
stimulated  to  desperation.  Nearer  and  nearer  they 
come.  Another  battle  flag  rose  above  the  works  within 
a  feet  few  feet  of  me.  The  experience  with  that  other 
flag  was  enough  for  one  day,  and  I  resolved  that  this 
banner  should  not  wave  over  us  if  I  could  help  it. 

Impulsively  I  dropped  my  rifle,  jumped  toward  the 
flag,  seized  it  by  the  staff  with  both  hands  and  exerted 
all  my  energy  to  wrench  it  from  the  hands  of  the  man 
who  carried  it.  A  desperate  struggle  for  the  posses- 
sion of  the  flag  ensued.  First  victory  seemed  to  be 
on  one  side,  then  on  the  other.  But  neither  would 
yield. 

Backward  and  forward,  now  brought  nearly  to  my 
knees,  now  in  danger  of  being  thrown  to  the  earth  by 
the  almost  superhuman  strength  of  my  antagonist,  we 
struggled  for  a  moment  on  the  works,  the  flag,  just 
above  our  heads,  swaying  in  all  directions  with  the 
movements  of  our  bodies,  the  thick  smoke  of  the 
atmosphere  around  us,  almost  suffocating  in  its  density, 
vibrating  with  the  sounds  of  exploding  rifles,  clash- 
ing bayonets  and  the  whistle  and  zip  of  swiftly  flying 
bullets. 

Suddenly  I  felt  a  burning  sensation,  as  if  a  red  hot 
iron  had  been  laid  on  my  head,  and  my  eyes  were 
quickly  blinded  with  hot  blood  running  over  my  face. 
Conscious  that  whatever  I  did  must  be  done  quickly,  I 
summoned  all  the  power  that  in  me  lay  for  a  final 


THE     GUN-BEARER. 


255 


effort.  The  staff  yielded,  and,  amid  wild  shouts  of  tri- 
umph, though  from  which  side  I  could  not  tell,  I  fall 
backward.  Some  one  caught  me  as  I  fell,  and  hurried 
me  to  the  rear. 

I  grew  dizzy.  My  strength  was  fast  leaving  me,  and 
it  was  with  difficulty  I  kept  my  feet  as  we  ran.  The 
noise  of  battle  increased.  There  was  a  roaring  sound 
in  my  ears ;  a  sharp,  stinging  pain  in  my  right  arm  ;  a 
bursting  sensation ;  then — blankness. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

It  was  night  when  I  returned  to  consciousness,  and  I 
found  myself  in  bed,  gazing  at  a  small  circle  of  light  on 
the  ceiling  overhead.  Directly  beneath  was  a  heavily- 
shaded  lamp,  which  cast  a  luminous  disk  upon  a  table. 
Other  parts  of  the  room  were  in  somber  gloom. 

In  a  low  chair  near  the  table,  partly  in  light  and 
partly  in  shadow,  sat  a  woman  reading.  I  could  not  see 
the  woman's  face  nor  tell  if  she  was  black  or  white. 

An  air  of  wholesome  comfort  and  peace  and  quiet 
pervaded  the  place,  and  I  wondered  where  it  was  ;  why 
I  was  lying  in  bed  with  my  head  so  tightly  bandaged  ; 
why  my  -arms  and  limbs  were  so  numb  and  void  of 
feeling. 

For  some  time  my  brain  refused  to  act  and  I  lay 
dazed,  bewildered,  utterly  unable  to  recall  the  past. 
By  degrees,  however,  it  slowly  came  to  me,  and  the 
picture  of  a  powder-blackened  face  and  a  man  carrying 
a  bullet-rent  battle  flag  presented  itself.  Then  the  con- 
flict in  which  I  was  wounded  flashed  before  me. 

But  this  house.     Why  was  I  here  ?     This  was  not  a 
hospital.     It  must  be  far  removed  from  the  results  of 
yesterday's  battle  ;  for,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  there  were 
no  other  wounded  men  near  me. 
[256] 


'I  SK1ZKD  THK  FI.AH  WITH  BOTH  HA.NL.8."— Ste  Page  254. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  257 

I  tried  in  various  ways  to  account  for  my  surround- 
ings, but  reached  no  satisfactory  conclusion.  Then  my 
mind  reverted  to  the  battle  ;~  whether  or  not  we  were 
victorious ;  if  I  succeeded  in  taking  that  flag.  I  had 
hold  of  the  staff  and  there  was  a  confused  recollection 
that  I  did  not  let  go  of  it.  Then  came  that  terrible, 
burning  pain  in  my  head. 

"Ah,  if  that  had  not  come  so  soon,  had  only  kept 
away  a  moment  longer,  the  .flag  would  have  been  mine, 
and  I  should  have  remembered  all  about  it.  Perhaps 
this  woman  can  tell  me  something  about  it." 

I  tried  to  attract  her  attention  and  failed.  She  did 
not  hear  me  ;  at  least  she  did  not  move.  My  voice 
was  weak  and  strange.  I  hardly  recognized  it.  But  I 
tried  again  ;  this  time  with  what  I  considered  a  greater 
effort. 

"  Who  got  the  flag  ?"  I  asked. 

Still  no  response. 

My  voice  was  thick  and  hoarse,  but  she  surely  must 
have  heard  me.  Why  don't  the  woman  answer  me  ? 

I  lay  and  looked  and  waited  and  wondered  what  it 
all  meant ;  where  Fred  was,  and  if  it  was  he  who 
helped  me  to  the  rear  when  I  was  wounded. 

Now  I  think  of  it,  I  don't  remember  seeing  him 
during  the  fight ;  but  neither  do  I  remember  seeing 
any  one  else,  except  Bence  and  Hartees  and  Nick  too, 
after  the  fight  commenced.  I  wonder  if  they  got  out 
of  the  battle  all  right.  Fred  was  with  me  when 
Hartees  shouted  for  us  to  follow  him,  and  we  both 
started  for  the  works  together. 

Hartees  what  became  of  him  ?  He  was  a  brave 
man,  none  braver  ;  always  at  the  front ;  never  shirking. 
He  and  I  were  the  only  two  in  the  regiment  who  were 
not  Kentuckians.  Where  did  he  come  from  ?  Nobody 


258  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

ever  seemed  to  know.  Of  course  I  had  seen  him  at 
the  Waytown  Arms  on  the  night  we  received  the 
news  that  Fort  Sumter  had  been  fired  upon,  but  he  was 
a  stranger,  even  there,  as  will  be  remembered. 

Musing  thus,  I  wearily  watched  the  leaves  of  the 
book  as  the  reader  turned  them  one  by  one.  I  wished 
she  would  stop  reading  and  look  at  me  that  I  might 
attract  her  attention.  But  I  was  in  darkness,  and  even 
if  I  should  beckon  she  could  not  see  me.  While  trying 
to  arrange  some  plan  by  which  I  might  call  her,  I  fell 
asleep. 

When  I  again  awoke  the  sun  was  shining  into  the 
room,  through  partially  closed  shutters,  and  I  saw  a 
young  woman  sitting  by  an  open  window  looking  at 
me. 

The  face  of  this  woman  was  familiar  to  me.  I  had 
seen  it  before.  It  is  wonderfully  like  Mary's  face.  But 
how  can  that  be  possible.  How  came  she  here  ? 
Pshaw !  I  must  be  dreaming.  And  yet,  I  ought  to 
know  that  face. 

Resolved  to  prove  at  once  if  it  were  she,  or  at  least 
attract  attention  before  she  turned  her  eyes  from  me,  I 
said  : 

"  Mary  !" 

"  What !"  rising  suddenly.  "  Do  you  really  know  me, 
Dan  ?" 

"Yes,  Mary,  why  shouldn't  I  know  you  ?" 

"Thank  God!"  she  fervently  exclaimed,  tears  stream- 
ing down  her  face  as  she  came  rapidly  to  my  bedside, 
bent  over  and  kissed  me. 

Surely  this  is  no  dream,  thought  I,  closing  my  eyes, 
and  yet  I  cannot  understand  the  reality  of  my  situation. 
Yesterday  in  battle,  in  middle  Tennessee ;  to-day  at 
home  in  Northern  Kentucky. 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  259 

Distance  is  not  so  easily  overcome  as  that,  and  if  it 
were,  how  was  it  managed  that  I  had  been  so  speedily 
taken  care  of  while  others,  in  a  worse  condition,  are 
left  to  suffer  on  that  terrible  battlefield  ? 

I  hardly  dare  speak  lest  the  spell  should  break  and  I 
find,  after  all,  it  was  only  a  dream.  What  if  it  should  be 
so  ?  I  shuddered  at  the  thought  and  opened  my  eyes 
A  look  from  Mary  inspired  me  with  the  confidence  to 
speak. 

"  Mary,"  said  I,  hesitatingly,  "  Mary,  tell  me,  is  this  a 
dream  ?" 

"  Oh,  Dan,  it  is  all  real ;  but  you  must  not  dare 
talk.  You  are  so  weak.  Let  me — " 

Here  she  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Mary !"  I  cried,  with  all  the  strength  at  my  com- 
mand, determined  not  to  let  her  pass  out  of  sight ; 
"  Mary,  don't  leave  me  !  Don't !" 

"  I  won't,  Dan,  I  won't.     But  your  mother — " 

Just  then  the  door  opened  softly,  and  my  mother 
entered  the  room.  I  looked  into  the  dear,  tired  face, 
whose  lips  were  quivering  with  suppressed  emotion  as 
she  came  toward  me,  and  whatever  else  I  tried  to  say, 
my  voice  failed  to  utter  but.  the  one  word  : 

"  Mother !" 

"  My  dear  child,"  she  said,  kneeling  by  my  bed 
and  putting  her  face  lovingly  against  mine,  "God  is 
indeed  good  to  give  me  back  my  boy.  He  will  let  you 
live  now  and  get  strong  again." 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  shall  soon  be  well." 

"  It  will  take  time,  my  son.  But  you  are  at  home 
now,  and  in  good  hands.  Please  God,  we  will  bring  you 
out  °f  this  all  right.  But  you  will  have  to  be  per- 
fectly quiet  for  some  time  yet.  A  dangerous  operation 
has  been  performed  on  your  head.  The  result,  so  far, 


260  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

is  successful.  But  the  least  excitement  may  undo  all 
that  the  doctors  have  done.  So  you  will  be  patient, 
my  boy,  and  wait  until  you  are  stronger,  before  we  can 
talk  to  you  or  you  can  ask  questions.  Don't  think  of 
the  past.  Sleep.  Rest.  Watch  me  or  Mary,  and 
remember  mother  is  with  you." 

"I'll  try  and  obey  orders,"  I  answered,  trying  to 
smile. 

"  That 's  right,  my  son.  You  shall  know  all  we  can 
tell  you  in  good  time.  Mary  or  I  will  be  with  you 
night  and  day.  You  shall  not  want  for  anything,  so 
don't  worry.  The  doctors  will  be  here  to-night.  Until 
then  you  must  not  talk  any  more.  Let  me  fix  your 
pillow  a  little.  There  !  You  feel  easier  now,  don't 
you  ?" 

"  Yes,  mother." 

"  Sleep  now,  if  you  can.  The  more  you  sleep  the 
faster  you  will  gain  strength." 

With  this  comforting  thought  my  mother  kissed  me 
and  quietly  left  the  room.  I  watched  her  until  the 
door  closed,  assured  myself  that  Mary  was  still  with 
me,  then  shut  my  eyes  and  slept. 

When  I  awoke  the  doctors — three  of  them — were 
present.  They  felt  my  pulse,  ascertained  the  tempera- 
ture of  my  body,  examined  the  bandages  on  my  head, 
asked  me  if  I  knew  where  I  was,  what  regiment  I 
belonged  to,  and  a  number  of  questions  which,  at  the 
time,  seemed  quite  silly  to  me.  They  were  all  answered 
promptly,  however,  and  without  confusion. 

"  Most  encouraging,"  said  a  gray-haired  doctor,  one  of 
the  trio,  when  the  other  two  had  finished  with  their 
catechising.  "  Young  man,"  he  said,  addressing  me, 
"  you  may  thank  God  that  you  have  remarkable  recu- 
perative powers." 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  261 

During  the  conference  which  followed  there  was 
some  talk  of  leaving  opiates  for  me  to  take,  but  the 
gray-haired  doctor  objected,  saying  : 

"  The  young  man  needs  neither  opiates  nor  tonics. 
We  have  only  to  look  after  these  bandages,  and  with 
careful  nursing" — here  he  glanced  at  Mary — "nature 
will  do  the  rest." 

After  giving  full  instructions  regarding  my  diet  and 
forbidding  me  to  talk,  the  doctors  departed. 

A  week  of  studied  silence  followed  ;  days  of  sleeping 
and  waiting  and  watching.  In  this  time  I  rapidly 
gained  in  strength.  The  sensation  of  numbness  in 
both  lower  limbs  was  gradually  leaving  them.  My  left 
hand  and  arm  I  could  move  a  little,  but  not  enough  so 
that  I  could  feed  myself.  My  right  side,  however, 
seemed  to  have  no  sense  of  feeling  whatever. 

The  doctors  came  every  evening,  noted  the  progress 
I  had  made  and  offered  me  words  of  encouragement. 
At  last  they  informed  us  that  I  was  strong  enough  to 
be  talked  to  or  that  some  one  might  read  to  me  ;  but 
only  for  a  little  while  at  a  time  ;  not  more  than  half  an 
hour  each  day. 

This  was  glorious  liberty,  and  my  first  investment  of 
it  was  with  my  mother.  The  next  morning,  after 
breakfast,  she  seated  herself  near  the  bed  and  said  : 

"  Well,  my  son,  now  that  we  can  talk  to  you,  I  sup- 
pose you  want  to  know  all  about  yourself  and  how  you 
happen  to  be  here  !" 

"  Yes,  mother !" 

She  began  : 

"Shortly  after  the  Battle  of  Franklin  I  received  a 
letter  from  Fred,  at  Nashville.  He  told  me  you 
had  been  wounded  and  needed  more  care  than 
you  could  possibly  get  from  army  surgeons  and 


262  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

nurses.  The  next  morning,  after  receiving  that 
letter,  I  was  on  my -way  to  Nashville,  where  I  found 
you  in  a  temporary  hospital.  You  were  unconscious 
and,  the  doctor  told  me,  had  been  so  since  the  battle. 
Your  condition,  he  said,  was  produced  by  two  pieces 
of  the  fractured  skull  pressing  upon  the  brain.  The 
remedy  was  an  extremely  difficult  operation  which  he 
intended  to  perform  when  you  were  strong  enough. 
The  shock  your  nervous  system  had  received  was  great, 
and  it  would  yet  be  weeks  before  he  could  think  of 
doing  anything  more  for  you.  Your  arm  was  healing." 

"  My  arm,  mother  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  boy.  The  bone  of  your  right  arm 
was  so  shattered  that  amputation  above  the  elbow  was 
necessary." 

"  I  didn't  know  that,"  I  said.  This  accounted  for  the 
numbness  in  my  right  side.  I  had  no  arm  and  could 
not  feel.  "  Well,"  I  said,  trying  to  look  cheerful,  "  my 
left  arm  remains  and  my  lower  limbs,"  moving  them. 
"Yes,  they  are  yet  sound." 

"  Better  still,  my  son,  the  operation  of  ten  days  ago 
was  successful,  and  your  senses  have  been  restored.  As 
soon  as  the  doctor  at  Nashville  thought  I  could  safely 
do  so  I  had  you  brought  home,  where  you  have  been 
ever  since.  Shortly  after  reaching  home  a  fever  set  in 
and  we  almost  despaired  of  your  life  ;  but  careful  nurs- 
ing brought  you  safely  through." 

"  You  and  Mary  nursed  me  through  it  all  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  boy.  Either  she  or  I  have  been  with  you 
night  and  day." 

""You  are  both  very  tired." 

"  We  were  both  very  anxious  until  after  the  operation 
ten  days  ago.  Since  then  the  improvement  in  your 
condition  has  been  so  marked  that  we  have  rested 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  263 

much,  to  say  nothing  of  the  mental  relief  we  have 
enjoyed.  But  I  must  finish  my  story." 

"  What  about  the  doctors  here,  mother  ?  Who  were 
they  ?" 

"  Several  doctors  were  consulted  as  to  performing  the 
operation  necessary  to  relieve  that 'pressure  on  your 
brain,  and,  as  no  one  here  dared  undertake  it,  a  special- 
ist— the  old  gentleman — was  sent  for  from  Cincinnati. 
He  came,  examined  your  head  and  appointed  a  day 
when  he  would  perform  the  operation.  He  said  the 
result  all  depended  on  the  curative  resources  of  nature. 
He  could  only  give  you  the  benefit  of  his  art.  Nature 
must  provide  for  the  rest." 

"  Did  he  say  anything  about  the  wounds  ?" 

"  There  were  two  separate  wounds,  he  said,  at  right 
angles  with  each  other,  and  one  very  much  deeper  than 
the  other.  They  were  in  a  healthy  condition,  however, 
and  that  was  in  your  favor.  That  was  all  he  would  say, 
except  that  it  was  a  remarkable  case.  On  the  appointed 
day  the  doctors  came,  the  specialist  bringing  two  friends 
with  him  from  Cincinnati.  The  operation  was  per- 
formed, and  Doctor  Cutler,  who  lives  in  town,  said  the 
old  gentleman  exhibited  wonderful  skill.  I  was  not 
allowed  in  the  room.  They  thought  it  better  not. 
After  the  operation  you  went  to  sleep,  and  slept 
soundly  for  the  rest  of  that  day  and  night.  The  next 
morning  you  saw  Mary  sitting  by  the  window,  and 
spoke  to  her." 

"  Who  was  it  seated  at  the  table,  reading,  the  night 
before  ?"  I  asked. 

"It  was  I.  Did  Mary  tell  you  some  one  was 
there  ?" 

"  No,  mother.  I  saw  you  and  tried  to  call  you,  but 
failed.  I  watched  you  turn  the  leaves  of  that  book 


264  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

for  a  long  time ;  wondered  where  I  was  and  tried  to 
make  it  all  out,  but  finally  went  to  sleep." 

"  The  doctor  thought  you  might  wake  up  in  the  night, 
and  he  was  right.  But  he  warned  us  not  to  talk  to  you  ; 
that  it  would  be  better  for  you  to  sleep.  I  did  not  hear 
you,  however.  There,  I  must  not  talk  any  more.  Mary 
will  tell  you  all  about  the  battle  to-morrow.  You  have 
heard  enough  for  to-day." 

On  the  following  morning,  after  disposing  of  the 
scanty  allowance — one  poached  egg,  two  small  slices  of 
buttered  toast  and  a  glass  of  warm  milk,  which  con- 
stituted my  breakfast — I  asked  Mary  to  tell  me  all 
about  the  battle. 

"  Do  you  feel  better  this  morning  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Much  better,"  I  replied.  "  Mary,  yesterday  morn- 
ing mother  told  me  that  you  and  she  have  nursed 
me  ever  since  I  was  brought  home." 

"  It  is  true,"  replied  Mary.  "  But  I  was  glad  to  do  it. 
Don't  say  anything  about  it.  The  danger  is  now  passed, 
thank  God,  and  you  will  soon  be  up  and  about." 

"  You  have  been  very  good  to  me  and  I  must  at  least 
say  I  am  grateful  for  what  you  have  done,"  I  persisted. 

"Then  have  the  goodness  not  to  refer  to  it  again, 
please.  Is  there  not  something  I  can  do  for  you  !" 

"  Yes ;  tell  me  about  the  battle,  please,  and  how  it 
went.  '  I  am  anxioiis  to  know." 

"  You  must  let  me  tell  you  in  my  own  way,  then,  as 
things  occur  to  me.  I  can  only  tell  you  what  Fred  has 
told  me  and  what  I  have  read  in  the  daily  papers." 

"  Fred  got  out  of  it  all  right,  then  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  not  anticipate  nor  interrupt  nor 
question  me.  Remember,  sir,"  and  her  face  assumed 
an  expression  of  droll  importance,  "  I  am  to  do  all  the 
talking." 


THE     GUNrPEARER.  265 

"  All  right,  Mary,  I  will  remember." 

"  In  the  first  place,  then,  Hood  was  defeated,  losing 
something  over  six  thousand  men.  Schofield  lost  two 
thousand  men.  One  thousand  of  these  belonged  to 
Wagner's  two  brigades,  who  were  in  front  of  your  works 
before  the  battle  commenced.  The  fight  was  about 
over  by  seven  o'clock  ;  though  there  were  occasional 
volleys  from  the  enemy  until  ten  o'clock.  After  that 
time,  there  being  no  further  demonstration,  Schofield 
sent  out  a  skirmish  line,  and  not  finding  the  enemy, 
they  returned,  when  our  whole  force  quietly  left  the 
works  and  marched  to  Nashville.  The  flag  you  risked 
your  life  for — " 

"  Well  ?"  I  asked  quickly,  my  pulses  throbbing  with 
excitement. 

"  Is  in  this  drawer." 

"  What  ?"  I  exclaimed,  as  the  thought  of  this  trophy 
being  so  near,  thrilled  me.  "  Then  1  did  capture  it 
after  all  ?" 

"  Yes,  but  calm  yourself,  Dan.  Be  perfectly  calm  or 
I  shall  stop  talking.  It  will  not  do  to  excite  yourself. 
I  ought  not  to  have  spoken  of  this." 

"Show  it  to  me  Mary.  Show  it  to  me.  See,  I  am 
calm." 

With  a  look  of  distrust,  Mary  opened  a  drawer  in  the 
table  standing  near  the  head  of  my  bed,  took  out  and 
unfolded  a  tattered,  blood-stained,  cross-barred  flag, 
the  general  appearance  of  which  had  been  burned  so 
vividly  into  my  memory. 

Hold  it  up,  Mary.  Hold  it  up !  Let  me  look  at  it 
once  more." 

"  Oh,  Dan,  how  could  you  ?"  she  said,  holding  the 
flag  up  as  high  as  she  could  reach.  "  How  could  you 
dare  so  much  for  only  a  flag  ?" 


266  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  Only  a  flag,  Mary ;  only  a  flag.  Ah,  if  you  had 
seen  the  hosts  of  brave  men  following  that  flag, 
through  smoke  and  blood,  to  the  jaws  of  death.  If  you 
had  thrilled  with  the  cheers  of  encouragement  from 
comrades  who  were  watching  you ;  if  you  could 
know — " 

"  Hush,  sir  !  Hush  !  Remember  your  promise  ;  you 
are  not  to  talk.  It  won't  do  any  good.  I  have  tried, 
but  cannot  understand  it,  and  I  don't  believe  any 
woman  or  even  a  man  who  has  not  been  in  battle  can 
understand  anything  of  the  inspiration  in  a  flag,  that 
leads  men  to  death.  It  was  a  daring  thing  to  do. 
They  say  you  jumped  onto  the  works  wrenched  the 
flag  from  the  hands  of  its  bearer  and  that  too  after  you 
had  been  wounded.  It  was  a  brave  act,  and  as  you  were 
between  two  fires,  it  is  a  miracle  you  were  not  killed. 
After  you  had  possession  of  the  flag  you  fell  back- 
ward. A  man  by  the  name  of  Searle  caught  you — " 

"  What,  Nick  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  think  that  is  his  name." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?" 

"  Remember  your  promise,  and  please  not  interrupt. 
Let  me  finish  the  story  in  my  own  way.  I  mean  to 
be  arbitrary  in  this  matter." 

"  I  will  be  silent,"  I  passively  responded.     "  Go  on  !" 

"  Well,  then,  you  were  led  to  the  rear  as  rapidly  as 
possible,  dragging  the  captured  banner  after  you.  Be- 
fore reaching  a  place  of  safety  your  arm  was  shattered 
by  a  bullet ;  then  you  dropped  the  flag.  At  the  same 
time  you  received  another  wound  in  your  head  and 
dropped  as  if  dead.  Searle  dragged  you  to  the  ambu- 
lances, where  you  were  examined  by  the  doctor,  who 
found  you  were  living  and,  after  dressing  your  wounds 
temporarily,  sent  you  to  Nashville.  Fred  and  others 


THE     GUN-BEARER. 


267 


saw  you  when  you  captured  the  flag  and  havte  many 
times  told  the  story.  Searle,  on  his  return  to  the 
front,  picked  up  the  flag,  tore  it  from  the  staff  and  put 
it  in  his  pocket.  He  came  to  see  you  when  the  war 
closed." 

"  What !"  I  exclaimed  in  astonishment  at  this  new 
revelation.  "The  war — the  war — closed,  did  you 
say  ?" 

"  Yes,  Dan.    Lee  surrendered  on  the  pth  of  April." 

"  And  I—?" 

"  Have  been  battling  for  life  and  reason  for  nearly 
six  months.  It  is  now  the  2oth  of  May." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"  How  is  my  boy  to-day  ?"  said  mother,  on  entering 
my  room  one  morning,  a  few  days  after  the  events  nar- 
rated in  the  last  chapter. 

"Better,  thank  you,"  I  replied.  "I  slept  well  last 
night,  and  am  now  equal  to  a  good  breakfast,  and  feel 
as  if  I  might  be  up  and  dressed  by  and  by." 

Mother  smiled  good-naturedly,  and  said  : 

"  There  's  nothing  to  be  gained  by  hurrying.  Better 
wait  a  few  days  longer.  Mary  is  preparing  breakfast, 
and,  while  you  are  waiting,  I  have  a  little  story  to  tell 
which,  I  am  sure,  will  surprise  you,  and  I  know  will  do 
you  no  harm." 

"  What  is  it,  mother  ?"  I  asked,  wondering  how  it  was 
possible  to  bring  forward  anything  more  surprising 
than  had  been  revealed  to  me  during  the  days  just 
passed. 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you.  About  four  weeks  since  I 
received  from  a  lawyer  in  Memphis,  Tennessee,  a  letter, 
which  had  been  forwarded  to  me  from  Waytown.  The 
letter  was  addressed  to  your  father,  and  stated  that 
father's  brother — " 
[268] 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  269 

I  did  not  know  father  had  a  brother  ?"  I  interrupted. 

"  He  did,  though.  But  he  rarely  ever  mentioned  him. 
His  name  was  Daniel  Nichols.  He  was  a  rich  planter, 
owned  a  large  number  of  slaves,  and  was  so  thoroughly 
aristocratic  in  his  notions  that  father  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  him." 

"  More  's  the  pity,"  I  remarked.  "  His  brother  might 
have  been  a  great  help  when  father  was  sick  and  in 
trouble." 

"Yes,  he  might,  and  no  doubt  would,  if  he  had 
known.  But  your  father  was  as  proud,  though  not  as 
successful,  as  his  brother,  and  would  not  have  asked  for 
help  to  keep  us  out  of  the  poor-house." 

"  But  the  lawyer's  letter.  What  about  it  ?"  I  asked,  a 
little  impatiently. 

"I  was  about  to  tell  you.  It  was  a  notice,  in  effect, 
that  Daniel  Nichols  had  died  and  that  his  property,  by 
reason  of  the  death  of  his  son,  had  been  willed  to 
your  father,  and  that  the  lawyers  awaited  further 
instructions  and  would  be  pleased  to  attend  to  all 
matters  of  transfer,  record,  et  cetera" 

"  What  is  the  property,  mother  ?" 

"A  schedule  of  it  accompanied  the  letter,  and  it 
amounts  to  almost  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars." 

"  What  ?"  I  gasped.  "  One  hundred  and —  Oh,  pshaw ! 
It  cannot  be.  It  is  only  a  mistake.  One  hundred  and 
fifty  thous —  Are  you  sure  this  is  true  ?" 

"  Quite  true,  Daniel,  and  no  mistake." 

"And  I  am — mother,  am  1  dreaming?  Say  that 
again,  please,"  said  I,  reaching  out  and  taking  her  hand 
in  my  own. 

"  It  is  all  true,  Daniel.  Your  uncle  died  and  left  all 
his  property — that  is,  all  the  war  had  left  him — to  your 


270  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

father.  As  your  father  is  dead  the  property  passes, 
by  terms  of  the  will,  to  you.  It  is  valued  at  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  round  numbers,  and 
consists  of  a  bank  account  of  some  fifty  thousand, 
United  States  bonds,  singularly  enough,  to  the  extent 
of  fifty  thousand  more,  and  the  balance  represents  the 
assessed  valuation  of  the  plantation,  all  of  which  have 
been  duly  transferred  to  you,  his  nephew  and  only 
living  blood  relation." 

"  And  it  is  then  really  a  fact  that  I  am  a — " 
"A  rich  man,  in  your  own  right,  Daniel." 
I  lay  back  upon  my  pillow,  closed  my  eyes  and  tried 
to  take  in  the  situation.     My  father's   brother  !    An 
uncle  of  whom  I  had  never  heard,  in  western  Tennes- 
see !    Strangely  enough,  at  that  moment   I  heard  a 
familiar  tune  being  whistled  by  a  passing  boy  on  the 
street,  and  there  came  to  my  mind  the  old  chant  of 
Black  Lige, 

"Nebber  min'  de  wedder  so  de  win'  don'  blow." 

Quickly  following  the  resurrection  of  this  old  tune,  there 
passed  in  mental  review  the  stalwart  form  of  the  cap- 
tain's cook,  and  his  effort,  the  first  time  we  met,  to  have 
me  recognize  him  as  the  son  of  his  old  master.  Lige 
was  from  Tennessee,  they  said.  Yes,  it  must  be  so. 
No  doubt  I  resembled  that  cousin,  and  Lige  was  moved 
to  recognition  by  it.  I  wondered  if  I  should  ever  see 
Lige  again.  If  I  should  happen  down  there  and  wel- 
come him  back  to  the  old  plantation,  where,  no  doubt, 
he  was  born  and  had  passed  all  his  young  life —  Mary's 
appearance  at  this  instant  put  an  end  to  my  dream- 
ing, and  I  asked  if  Mary  knew  of  my  good  for- 
tune. 
"  Yes,  Daniel,  Mary  knows  the  whole  story." 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  271 

"It  's  about  my  uncle  in  Tennessee,"  I  replied 
in  answer  to  a  questioning  look  from  Mary's 
eyes. 

"  I  am  glad  for  you,"  she  said,  simply,  "  but  now  we 
haye  something  of  vastly  more  importance  to  con- 
sider. Here  are  dainties  fit  for  a  king,  and  you  have 
only  to  eat  sir  and  be  well." 

What  an  appetizing  breakfast  that  was,  with  Mary 
and  mother  to  supply  the  needs  of  my  missing  hand  ; 
and  what  a  delightful  experience  to  watch  these  dear 
ones  as  they  lovingly  vied  with  each  other  in  their 
efforts  to  please  me. 

After  the  meal  was  finished  and  mother  had  taken 
away  the  tray,  Mary  said  : 

"  I  wonder  if  you  are  now  in  a  condition  to  bear 
another  surprise  ?" 

"  What,  another  ?    Will  wonders  never  cease  ?" 

"  I  hope,  Dan,  we  may  never  again  have  anything 
happen  to  us  less  pleasing  than  that  which  I  am  about 
to  tell  you  of.  But,  perhaps,  after  all,  I  had  better  wait 
a  day  or  two  longer.  You  ought  not  to  have  too  much 
to  carry  in  your  mind  just  yet." 

"  There  you  go,  teasing  again.  You  know  I  am 
strong  enough  now  to  bear  almost  anything.  Besides, 
I  have  already  been  so  thoroughly  surprised  at  every- 
thing that  has  transpired  that  I  do  not  see  how  it  can  be 
possible  to  startle  me  further  ;  particularly  if  what  you 
tell  me  is  pleasing." 

"  Oh,  it  is  decidedly  pleasant,  or  you  may  be  sure  I 
would  not  tell  you,"  Mary  replied.  "  Perhaps,  after  all, 
I  may  as  well  tell  you." 

"  Do,  I  implore  you,"  said  I,  coaxingly. 

Mary  looked  at  me  quietly  for  an  instant  and  then 
said: 


272  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  have  the  least  bit  of  curiosity  to 
know  whatever  became  of  your  captain  ?" 

"  Do  I  want  to  know  where  Captain  Hartees  is  ? 
Most  emphatically,  yes !" 

"  Ah,  yes,  Hartees  !  Yes,  that 's  the  name.  I  could 
not  recall  it." 

"  But  what  about  him  ?  Do  you  know  where  he 
is?" 

"  I  can  make  a  shrewd  guess,"  as  the  Yankees  say. 

"Come,  Mary,- tell  me  what  you  have  to  tell,  and 
don't  tease  me  any  longer?  Was  he  wounded  at 
Franklin  ?" 

"  No,  he  was  not  wounded  !"  she  replied,  smiling  at 
my  impatience. 

"  I  'm  glad  of  that,"  I  said,  taking  hold  of  her  hand 
and  looking  into  her  love-lit  eyes. 

"  Well,  we  had  a  letter  direct  from  Waytown  one 
day  last  week,  and — " 

"  Tell  me  about  that  some  other  time,  Mary  ;  but, 
just  now,  tell  me  where  Captain  Hartees  is — or  I  '11 
cut  you  off  without  a  shilling  !" 

"You  are  getting  positively  dangerous,  and  if  you 
don't  look  out  you  shall  have  no  dinner  !" 

"  All  right,  Mary,  have  your  own  way  ;  take  your  own 
time  ;  I  'm  sure  to  know  it  later." 

"  You  surely  won't  if  you  persist  in  interrupting  me ! 
This  letter  was  dated  at  Waytown  and  was  signed  by 
John  Hartees." 

"Well,  well,  that  is,  indeed,  a  surprise.  What  is  he 
doing  there,  pray  ?" 

"  That  you  will  learn  later,  if  you  please." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  him." 

"  It  will  be  your  own  fault  if  you  do  not,  as  soon  as 
you  are  able  to  travel !" 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  273 

X 

"  How  so  ?" 

"  Because  he  has  settled  there.  He  has  married  Edith 
Miller,  whom  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of." 

"  Married  Edith  Miller  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  and,  what  is  more,  he  is  very  anxious  to 
have  you  and  your  mother,  when  you  recover,  come 
back  to  Waytown  and  live  there." 

"  We  never  could  do  that,  Mary,  and  see  our  old  home 
occupied  by  strangers." 

"  But  couldn't  you  buy  it  back  ?" 

"  Yes ;  but  mother  would  feel — " 

"Well,  it  does  not  happen  to  be  necessary.  You 
interrupt  me  so  that  I  don't  make  any  progress  at 
all." 

"  I  promise  I  will  not  speak  again,"  said  I. 

"  Listen,  then.  This  letter  was  filled  with  kindest 
wishes  for  your  speedy  restoration  to  health,  and 
expressed  the  hope  that  you  would  soon  be  able  to  come 
back  to  your  old  home  and  live  near  your  friends.  With 
this  letter  came  a  deed  of  transfer  from  Edith,  turning 
over  to  your  mother  all  the  property  which,  by  fore- 
closure, passed  from  the  hands  of  your  father  into  the 
possession  of  Edith's  father.  What  do  you  think  of 
that,  sir  ?"  Mary  concluded,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  think  of  it,  my  dear,  except 
that  God  has  been  very  good  to  us  and  that  we  have 

very  much  to  be  thankful  for." 

******* 

Careful  nursing  hastened  my  recovery,  and  in  six 
months  from  the  date  of  the  surgical  operation  which 
restored  me  to  consciousness  I  stood  with  Mary  at  the 
altar,  from  which  we  went  forth  into  the  world  as  hus- 
band and  wife. 

In  good  time  Mary  and  I  and  mother  returned  to 


274  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

Waytown,  where  a  series  of  pleasant  surprises  awaited 
us.  As  the  train  rolled  into  the  station  I  caught  sight 
of  Captain  Hartees  with  his  wife  Edith.  Near  by 
I  also  saw  Dick  Wentworth,  the  old  station  agent,  and 
Billy  Green.  There,  too,  were  big  Joe  Bentley  and 
little  Tommy  Atkins,  with  a  host  of  other  old-time, 
familiar  faces. 

I  also  noticed  that  the  station  itself  was  decorated 
with  bunting  and  flags. 

As  we  stepped  from  the  cars  to  the  platform  a  salute 
was  being  fired  in  a  neighboring  field,  and  we  were  at 
once  surrounded  by  loving  friends,  who  gave  us  a  royal 
welcome  home. 

What  it  all  meant,  what  mother  or  Mary  or  I  had 
done  to  entitle  us  to  such  a  reception,  or  why  the  air 
was  at  this  moment  vibrating  with  patriotic  music 
from  the  village  band,  I  confess  was  beyond  me  to 
explain. 

Carriages  awaited  us,  in  which,  preceded  by  the  band 
and  follqwed  by  a  crowd  of  villagers,  we  rode  to  the 
Waytown  Arms,  also  gayly  decked  .with  flags  and 
bunting. 

At  the  tavern  door  we  were  received  by  the  select 
men  of  the  town,  by  whom  we  were  conducted  to  the 
parlors,  where  a  public  reception  was  held.  Here, 
every  one  seemed  anxious  to  take  me  by  the  hand  and 
offer  me  a  word  of  congratulation — though  it  appeared, 
considering  the  fact  that  I  had  been  only  a  humble 
private  in  the  army,  and  was  now  only  a  citizen  return- 
ing to  the  home  of  his  boyhood,  that  my  friends  were 
making  a  greater  demonstration  over  the  event  than 
my  record  or  position  would  seem  to  warrant. 

Mary,  mother  and  I  stood  in  one  corner  of  the  big 
double  parlors,  with  Captain  Hartees,  his  wife,  the 


THE     GUN-BEARER.  275 

selectmen  close  by,  and  the  villagers  with  extended 
hands  and  words  of  welcome  passing  before  us. 

At  last  the  handshaking  was  finished,  and  the 
people — all  who  could  be  accommodated  in  the  parlors 
— stood  waiting,  expectantly,  as  if  there  was  something 
yet  to  be  accomplished  or  said  of  which  they  desired  to 
be  listeners  and  observers. 

To  me  it  was  an  instant  of  awkward  pause,  for  I 
could  not  anticipate  what  was  coming  ;  but  it  was  only 
for  an  instant,  when  Bert  Smith,  chairman  of  the 
selectmen,  armed  with  an  official-looking  document, 
stepped  in  front  of,  and,  in  his  most  impressive  manner, 
said  : 

"  My  brother,  no  doubt  you  have  been  surprised  at 
the  reception  which  has  greeted  your  arrival  home, 
and,  perhaps,  you  have  wondered  not  a  little  what  it 
was  all  about.  I  do  not  know  that  I  can  offer  a  better 
explanation  than  to  say  that  Waytown  is  happy  this 
day  to  do  honor  to  one  of  its  heroes.  At  a  meeting 
held  in  Town  Hall,  some  months  since,  celebrating  the 
close  of  war  and  the  return  of  our  brave  sons,  many 
of  them  scarred  and  maimed  from  Southern  battle- 
fields, our  beloved  citizen,  Captain  Hartees,  had  some- 
thing to  offer  in  eulogy  of  what  Waytown  had  done 
during  the  war,  and  there  described  the  bravery  ex- 
hibited at  the  Battle  of  Franklin  by  the  son  whom  it  is 
our  delight  to  honor  to-day.  Words  of  mine  cannot 
fitly  describe  the  period  of  anxious  waiting  for  the 
weekly  reports  that  came  to  us  during  the  weary 
months  of  your  unconsciousness,  nor  can  I  express 
the  joy  we  felt  on  learning  the  result  of  the  surgical 
skill  which  restored  your  reason.  We  rejoiced  that  the 
lost  was  found,  that  the  dead  had  been  made  alive 
again,  and  it  now  becomes  my  pleasure  to  hand  you  a 


276  THE     GUN-BEARER. 

medal  of  honor,  presented  by  an  act  of  Congress  for 
gallantry  and  personal  valor  to  Daniel  Nichols,  private 
Company  D,  Twelfth  Kentucky  Volunteers,  at  the 
Battle  of  Franklin,  Tennessee,  November  30, 1864.  Wear 
it,  as  you  alone  can  wear  it,  ever  remembering,  my 
brother,  that  while  the  United  States  may  reward  with 
medals  the  devotion  and  bravery  of  its  loyal  sons, 
Waytown  will  cherish  in  its  heart  of  hearts  a  love 
for  its  heroes  which  can  never  grow  dim  and  can  never 
pass  away." 

As  I  took  the  medal  in  my  hand,  cheer  upon  cheer 
went  up  from  the  assembled  villagers,  and  I,  with  a 
heart  too  full  for  utterance,  could  only  feebly  express 
in  words  the  gratitude  I  felt  for  the  honors  bestowed 
upon  me. 

A  banquet,  such  as  the  Waytown  Arms  had  never 
before  found  occasion  to  spread  was  then  served,  and 
thus  closed  the  experiences  of  an  eventful  day. 

Years  afterward,  I  attended  a  reunion  of  the  Twelfth 
Kentucky  at  Louisville,  and  there  met  my  cousin  Fred, 
Nick  Searle  and  Jake  Bence.  Black  Lige  also  put  in 
an  appearance  and  was  immediately  taken  charge  of 
by  Captain  Hartees  who  succeeded  in  persuading  his 
faithful  servant  of  the  past  to  return  with  him  to 
Waytown. 

Many  and  cordial  were  the  greetings  exchanged  at 
that  reunion  ;  and  when,  at  its  close,  the  comrades  sepa- 
rated to  go  their  different  ways,  as  if  in  answer  to  the 
question  I  asked  myself,  "  how  many  of  us  shall  ever 
meet  again,"  Black  Lige  sang  softly, 

"  Nebber  min'  de  wedder  so  de  win'  don'  blow, 
Don'  yer  bodder  'bout  yer  trouble  till  it  comes."  , 

THE  END. 


A  German  Detective  Novel. 


THE  TELL-TALE  WATCH 

(Der  Lebende  hat  Recht.) 
FROM   THE  GERMAN  OF 

GEORGE  HOCKER 

BY 

META  DE  VERE. 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  JOY  JAMES  FAQ  AN. 


12mo.    350  Pages.    Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth.    Price,  $1.00. 
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This  story  is  based  upon  a  thrilling  tragedy  in  real  life,  which 
created  a  sensation  in  Germany,  and  which  in  the  form  of  a  novel 
is  equally  thrilling  and  interesting.  German  novels  are  usually 
quiet  and  domestic,  and  while  interesting  and  charming,  are  sel- 
dom exciting  or  dramatic.  "  The  Tell-Tale  Watch  "  is  both,  and 
will  satisfy  the  taste  for  a  mystery  which,  in  the  beginning,  seems 
almost  unfathomable.  It  is  a  strange  story  with  an  original  plot, 
and  one  which  will  cause  difference  of  opinion,  as  the  sympathy 
of  the  reader  is  excited  in  favor  of  one  character  or  another.  It 
is  not  a  story  which  any  one  who  reads  will  consider  dull. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS, 
COR.  WILLIAM  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS,  NEW  YORK, 


An  American  Novel. 


HETTY,  OR  THE  OLD  GRUDGE 

BY 

J.  H.   CONNELLY. 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS   BY   E,     WHITNEY. 


12mo.    300  Pages.    Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth.    Price,  $1.00. 
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This  is  a  careful  study  of  life  and  experience  in  a  primitive 
American  village.  The  characters  are  simple,  strong  and  adven- 
turous. When  moved  by  strong  passion,  they  act  with  a  force 
and  directness  impossible  to  people  bred  in  the  complex  circum- 
stances and  influences  of  the  conventional  life  and  society  of 
cities.  There  are  sweetness  and  charm  in  the  portraiture  of  this 
heroine  of  the  woods  and  fields.  The  exciting  incidents  which 
mark  the  progress  and  climax  of  the  story  only  serve  to  empha- 
size the  beauty  and  truth  which  the  author  has  wrought  into  the 
substance  of  her  character.  Mr.  Connelly  is  one  of  our  most  con- 
scientious American  writers  and  one  who  is  destined  to  enjoy 
fame  and  popularity.  Nothing  weak  or  disappointing  ever  comes 
from  his  pen,  and  we  can  recommend  his  work  to  all  who  wish  to 
read  an  excellent  novel. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  sent,  postpaid, 
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An  American  Society  Novel. 


GIRLS  OF  A  FEATHER. 

BY 

MRS.    AMELIA    E.    BARR, 

Author  of  "The  Beads  of  Tasmer,"  "The  Mate  of  the  'Easter 

£ell,'"  "Friend   Olivia,"  "The  Household  of 

McNeil,"  "A  Sister  to  Esau,"  etc, 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS.  BY  MEREDITH  NUGENT. 


12mo.    366  pages.    Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth.    Price,  $1.25. 
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Nothing  could  be  more  timely,  nothing  could  be  more  charm- 
ing, than  this  exquisite  book.  A  society  novel  by  Mrs.  Barr  will 
excite  widespread  interest  and  curiosity.  "  Girls  of  a  Feather  " 
has  the  freshness  of  a  May  morning  in  its  atmosphere  and  the 
form  and  color  of  June  in  its  beautiful  pictures  of  womanhood.  It 
is  a  delightful  successor  to  "  The  Bow  of  Orange  Ribbon,"  and 
readers  will  find  in  it  a  lightness  of  touch  and  maturity  of  power 
which  show  the  progress  made  by  the  author  in  the  highest  quali- 
ties of  literary  form.  Her  new  work  is  distinctly  an  advance  upon 
anything  which  she  has  ever  done  before,  and  will  rank  with  the 
best  literature  of  the  period.  Large,  new  type  is  used,  and  the 
appearance  of  the  book  is  very  attractive. 

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COR.  WILLIAM  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS,  NEW  YORK. 


An  Entertaining  Book. 


A  PRIESTESS  OF  COMEDY. 

(COMODIE.) 

BY 

NATALY  VON  ESCHSTRUTH. 

Translated  from  the  German  by  Elise  L.  Lathrop. 
ILLUSTRATED  BY  WARREN  B.  DAVIS. 


12mo.    312  Papes.    Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth.    Price,  $1.25. 
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This  splendid  novel  first  appeared  in  this  country  in  the  original 
German  in  the  New  York  Staats-Zeitung.  The  publication  in 
English  is  by  arrangement  with  the  Staats-Zeitung.  It  is  a  novel 
of  unusual  excellence,  conforming  to  the  best  models  of  literary 
art,  full  of  tragic  interest,  lightened  by  strokes  of  pure  comedy, 
and  abounding  in  admirable  sketches  of  modern  society.  No  re- 
cent novel  has  appeared  in  Germany  which  has  attracted  more 
interest  and  favorable  comment  from  the  best  judges.  The  title 
is  thoroughly  descriptive  of  the  book.  The  heroine  is  an  original 
and  interesting  character.  The  author  is  one  of  the  most  popular 
German  novelists.  The  story  is  beautifully  illustrated -by  Mr. 
Warren  B.  Davis,  and  it  is  issued  in  cloth  and  paper  covers,  uni- 
form with  "Miss  Mischief,"  by  Heimburg. 

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A  New  Novel  by  E.  Werner. 


A  Lover  From  Across  the  Sea. 

BY 

E.  WERNER. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN  BY 

MARY   J.    SAFFORD. 

ILLUSTRATIONS   BY    VICTOR    FERARD    AND   H.    If.    EATON. 


12mo.     300  Pages.     Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth.     Price,  $1.00. 
Paper  Cover,  50  Cents. 


E.  Werner  is  the  author  of  more  popular  novels  than  any 
other  German  writer.  She  has  set  the  key  for  a  good  many  of 
her  sisters,  who  have  made  the  German  domestic  love-story  one 
of  the  most  agreeable  and  familiar  to  American  readers.  These 
stories  are  always  pure,  interesting  and  popular.  "A  Lover 
from  Across  the  Sea "  is  a  fresh  story,  never  before  translated, 
and  better  adapted  for  republication  here  than  any  German  novel 
which  we  can  recall.  It  is  one  of  the  author's  shorter  novels,  and 
the  volume  is  enlarged  by  the  addition  of  another  new  story  by 
E.  Werner,  entitled  "  In  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy,"  of  the  same 
general  character  and  equally  interesting.  The  illustrations  of 
these  stories  add  very  much  to  the  value  and  beauty  of  the  book. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS, 
COR.  WILLIAM  ANP  SPRUCE  STREETS,  NEW  YORK, 


A  Charming  Novel. 


HEARTS  AND  CORONETS; 

OR, 

WHO'S   THE   NOBLE? 


BY 

JANE    G.    FULLER. 

WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS    BY  ARTHUR    LUSfLEY. 

12mo.    347  Pag-es.    Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth.    Price,  $1.00. 
Paper  Cover,  50  Cents. 


"Hearts  and  Coronets"  is  a  novel  in  which  rank  and  wealth 
are  contrasted  with  the  plainer  elements  of  social  life,  and  are 
shown  to  be  no  bar  to  truth,  purity  and  affection.  The  plot  is 
extremely  good,  and  appeals  strongly  to  every  mother  who  has 
ever  looked  upon  a  lovely  child  in  the  cradle  and  considered  the 
possibility  of  its  being  suddenly  snatched  away  and  its  fate  re- 
maining for  years  a  sealed  book.  There  are  possibilities  in  life 
more  strange  and  surprising  than  any  of  the  inventions  of  the 
novelist,  and  this  story,  like  many  others  which  strike  the  reader 
as  improbable,  is  founded  on  fact.  It  is  a  deeply  interesting  nar- 
rative, with  many  delightful  pictures  of  domestic  life  and  woman's 
experience. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS, 
COR.  WILLIAM  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS,  NEW  YORK. 


A  New  Translation  from  Balzac. 


LOVE 

(L'  Envers  de  1'  Histoire  Contemporaine.) 


FROM   THE   FRENCH  OF 

HONORE    DE    BALZAC. 

TRANSLATED   BY 

FRANCIS  H.  SHEPPARD,   U.  S.   N, 

WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS   BY  F.    A.    CARTER. 

12mo.    300  Pages.    Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth.    Price,  $1.00. 
Paper  Cover,  50  Cents. 


This  is  an  admirable  translation  of  one  of  the  most  refined  and 
spiritual  books  in  any  language.  It  deals  with  love,  but  that  great 
passion  is  embodied  in  the  souls  of  men  and  women  who  suffered 
the  great  trials  and  afflictions  which  overtook  the  victims  of  the 
first  French  Revolution.  The  principal  characters  belong  to  the 
old  aristocracy  of  France,  who  escaped  only  with  their  lives,  to 
enact  the  role  of  ministers  of  charity  in  the  very  place  where  had 
stood  the  guillotine,  and  to  the  people  who  had  clamored  for  their 
blood.  This  novel  should  be  read  in  connection  with  "  The 
Country  Doctor,"  as  it  is  written  on  the  same  general  lines,  al- 
though it  reaches  a  greater  moral  altitude,  and  portrays  more  in- 
tense and  tragic  circumstances.  No  one  can  possibly  understand 
Balzac  without  reading  this  story. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS, 
COR.  WILLIAM  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS,  NEW  YORK. 


Mrs.  Southworth's  Best  Novels. 


ONLY  A  GIRL'S  HEART, 

BY 

MRS.   E.  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWORTH. 


THE  REJECTED  BRIDE, 

Being  "Only  a  Girl's  Heart,"  Second  Series. 


GERTRUDE  HADDON, 

Being  "Only  a  Girl's  Heart,"  Third  Series. 

BY 

MRS.  E.  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWORTH, 

ALL  THREE  ILLUSTRATED  J3Y  HUGH   M.   EATON. 

12mo.    Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth.     Price,  $1.00  each.     Paper 
Cover,  50  Cents. 


The  three  novels  above  named  are  all  connected  by  a  thread 
of  story  and  deal  with  the  same  characters.  The  series  reads 
continuously  and  is  essentially  one  novel,  although  each  book 
forms  more  or  less  a  distinct  narrative.  The  interest  of  the  first 
novel  is  carried  forward  with  increasing  power  until  the  close  of 
the  third.  Few  authors,  living  or  dead,  have  swayed  so  wide  an 
influence  or  held  readers  with  a  more  sovereign  power  than  this 
delightful  novelist.  Many  readers  are  gratified  to  meet  their  old 
acquaintances  in  the  successive  books  of  a  favorite  author.  F. 
Marion  Crawford  owes  a  great  deal  of  his  popularity  to  the 
Roman  family  of  the  Saracinesca,  whose  fortunes  in  succeeding 
generations  are  told  in  his  novels.  So  this  series  by  Mrs.  South- 
worth  will  furnish  a  whole  winter's  reading  to  her  admirers,  and 
all  about  the  same  people.  The  illustrations  of  these  novels  add 
very  much  to  their  beauty  and  interest. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS, 
COR.  WILLIAM  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS,  NEW  YORK, 


A  New  Novel  by  the  Author  of  "  A  Priestess 
of  Comedy." 


COUNTESS  DYNAR; 

OR, 

POLISH   BLOOD. 

BY 

NATALY  VON  ESCHSTRUTH, 

Author  of"A  Priestess  of  Comedy,"  "  A  Princess  of  the  Stage," 

etc. 

WITS  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  JAMES  FAG  AN. 


12mo.     367  Pages.     Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth.     Price,  $1.25. 
Paper  Cover,  50  Cents. 


Nataly  von  Eschstruth's  novels  are  full  of  romantic  sentiment 
that  takes  one  completely  out  of  the  ordinary  atmosphere  and 
situations  of  common  life.  There  are  a  swing  to  her  style,  a  con- 
tagious enthusiasm  and  extravagance  in  her  descriptions  and  a 
freshness  in  the  emotions  and  passions  of  her  characters,  which 
command  the  attention,  excite  the  feelings  and  absorb  the  in- 
terest of  every  reader.  All  who  have  read  the  "  Priestess  of 
Comedy"  will  appreciate  the  truth  of  what  we  say.  "Countess 
Dynar  "  is  a  book  of  most  unusual  beauty.  The  illustrations  are 
admirably  illustrative  of  the  scenes  and  characters. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS, 
COR.  WILLIAM  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS,  NEW  YORK. 


An  Interesting  Novel. 


A  SLEEP-WALKER. 


BY 

PAUL   H.   GERRARD. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  WARREN  B.  DAVIS. 


12mo.    314  Pages.    Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth.    Price,  $1.00. 
Paper  Cover,  50  Cents. 


"  A  Sleep- Walker  "  is  a  novel  of  incident.  As  the  title  indicates, 
complications  arise  from  the  doings  of  a  fair  somnambulist.  In 
the  opening  a  mysterious  woman  is  discovered  in  the  act  of  throw- 
ing a  child  into  a  reservoir.  The  fate  of  the  child  and  the  iden- 
tity of  the  woman  are  matters  upon  which  the  plot  of  the  story 
turns.  Much  is  involved,  and  a  large  number  of  persons  inter- 
ested, and  a  series  of  events  transpire,  all  of  which  go  to  form  a 
dramatic  story  oi  most  sensational  interest.  The  story  is  pub- 
lished simultaneously  in  England  and  this  country  and  is  well 
calculated  to  please  readers  in  both  countries. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS, 
COR.  WILLIAM  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS,  NEW  YORK. 


A  New  Novel  by  Col.  Enoz. 


THE  SIBERIAN  EXILES. 

BY 

COL.  THOMAS  W.  KNOX, 

Author  of  "  The  Boy  Travellers,"  "  Overland  Through  Asia," 
"Decisive  Battles  Since  Waterloo"  etc. 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  VICTOR  PERARD. 

8vo.     355  pages.      Handsomely  Bound  in  Cloth.     Price,   $2.00. 
Paper  Cover,  50  Cents. 


This  is  a  novel  of  European  and  Asiatic  Russia  of  our  own 
times.  Reading  it,  one  would  think  that  it  belonged  to  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  when  men  and  women  were  remorselessly  snatched 
from  their  homes,  sold  into  slavery,  imprisoned,  persecuted  and 
killed  at  the  caprice  oflocal  despots  or  robber-barons.  It  tells  of 
the  exile,  without  trial,  of  the  head  of  a  family,  guiltless  of  any 
crime  or  treason,  simply  upon  suspicion.  All  the  exertions  of  his 
family  and  friends  are  powerless  to  save  him  from  the  terrors  of 
the  Siberian  exile  and  the  life  of  a  State  prisoner  in  the  mines. 
Colonel  Knox  is  familiar  with  the  scenes  and  circumstances  of  the 
people  about  whom  he  writes.  He  has  travelled  in  Siberia,  vis- 
ited the  mines  and  prisons,  seen  the  prisoners  at  work,  and  he 
gives  a  vivid  picture  of  their  life  and  sufferings.  His  novel  is  one 
of  the  most  interesting  and  pathetic  narratives  which  has  ever 
been  written  of  modern  Russia,  its  government  and  people.  The 
edition  in  cloth  binding  is  a  large,  handsome  volume,  with  many 
illustrations.  It  is  also  published  in  the  Ledger  Library  in  paper 
covers,  with  five  choice  illustrations. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS, 
COR.  WILLIAM  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS,  NEW  YORK. 


Julien  Gordon's  Novel  from  the  German. 


COUNTESS  OBERNAU 

AFTER  THE  GERMAN 
BY 

JULIEN   GORDON, 

Author  of  "A  Diplomat's  Diary  "  etc.,  etc. 

WITH  ILLV8TSATION8   BY   JAMES   FAGAN. 


12mo.    281  Pages.    Handsomely  Bound  in  f  loth.    Price,  $1.25. 
Paper  Cover,  50  Cents. 


Julien  Gordon's  novels  possess  superb  studies  of  character  and 
fresh  and  unhackneyed  incidents — merits  which  have  rendered 
them  popular.  These  qualities  will  also  be  found  in  "Countess 
Obernau,"  which  she  has  adapted  from  the  German,  and  which 
is  quite  equal  to  any  of  her  books.  Countess  Obernau  is  a  woman 
who  possesses  a  rare  charm  of  individuality.  She  has  refinement 
and  exquisite  sensibilities  joined  to  an  artistic  temperament. 
There  is  a  mystery  in  her  life,  and  her  independent  character  and 
Bohemian  tendencies  invest  all  her  movements  with  interest  to 
curious  observers.  The  charm  of  her  individuality  fascinates  all, 
and  at  least  two  are  ready  to  die  for  her.  The  interest  of  the 
novel  is  all  centered  in  this  character. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  or  sent,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS, 
COR.  WILLIAM  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS,  NEW  YORK, 


